Soldiers of the Moon
by VictoriousNagini
Summary: ***Currently Being Revised***A fate may be taken for the worse when Harry unwittingly turns Hermione's Time-Turner a bit too far. Will he be able to overcome past mistakes and end Voldemort's reign? (Part Time-Turner fic)
1. I - Like An Alien

Rating: PG -13

Words: 5,581

Warnings: Zip. Language mostly.

Feedback: Respectfully welcomed. Let me know if you spot any mistakes! This is unbeta'd so I tried my best, people.

A/N: Well, I can't say this is going to be 'great' or anything because I don't have high expectations for this story and it's my first crack at a multi-chapter fic, BUT…I can tell you I'll try my best to make it more interesting and believable as the chapters go along, which will be about 6 altogether and they probably won't be very long (six years worth of brilliantly dysfunctional characters, peeps, just sayin'). Yes, the time frame completely disregards the book and film but I wanted something"' different and updated, especially about the part where she is American—I know some people are touchy about 'transfers' in this fandom, so let's hope that doesn't turn you off completely. Another thing, let's pretend Harry was never the chosen one, Ron is the Hufflepuff one, but Hermione stayed the smart one, capiche? Cool. Bring on the MADNESS. First chapter is mainly Sirius' POV. R&amp;R if you want.

Newport, Maine – 7:10 pm

Sirius Black stumbled out of the thick bushes, slapping at a dozen mosquitoes' that had decided to nest on his sweaty and dirt-ridden skin. His potentially broken bones and minor bleeding from a few lone cuts would soon do him in if he didn't find some form of shelter soon, and fights with the local strays and a nasty run in with a barb wire fence didn't help matters much. The cuts weren't deep enough to allow a healthily blood flow, but enough to leave scars in the morning and his 'broken' bones were really badly bruised compared to his past experiences, which promised to be painful and sore for a week or two if not tended to properly. He just liked to brag sometimes, and what was wrong with that if it gave you a sense of feeling, a sense of belonging somewhere in this crazy world, especially if one led the life he did? Nothing he could muster at the moment could change that fact for him, seeing as his main focus on his pressing hunger took up most of his thoughts and his day finalized on not throwing him a bone for shit—lame puns aside. There is nothing quite like the feeling of having your stomach completely devoid of victuals whilst being so direly sleep deprived you could cry. Literally, a tear had 'accidently' made its way down his face the previous day, thankfully no one was a witness to this event save for a solitary squirrel gathering for his long winter ahead.

Pitiful, he was! The same Sirius Black whose aristocratic linage would outlast the Queen and that included her grandchildren.

Sirius didn't want to dwell on how poor his life had become when he started shivering again, why was it so bloody cold? Oh, right. Tomorrow would mark the first day of September. Wishing to Merlin he had a scarf and some decent boots, he dropped the tattered and stained shawl onto the ground since it was hardly any defense against the cold and took the form of his animagus—he had spotted lights gleaming through the woods earlier and took it as a sign of life. It was when he was thinking of how much it would cost his pride to give his left hand for a meal (he bet ten quid you could play Beethoven's symphony 5 on his ribs with a stick) and a month worth of rest when a relatively large white house came looming into his line of vision, looking slightly imposing against the beginnings of dusk and the dense row of pine trees surrounding it. He sniffed the air, snout raised intently on pinpointing the distinct smell of…Roost Beef? Yes, definitely Roost. Not that he expected scraps however, when Muggles saw a dog, preferably one of his size and appearance, they usually steered clear while he went about his business. He mentally shrugged and figured he could have a go at the rubbish bin before any of them awoke the next morning in hopes of finding something edible.

He was about to tip over the rubbish bin when a girl of no less than thirteen came bounding out; her black hair was tied in a loose ponytail and her converses slapped on the paved walkway as she ran. She stopped when he peered around the bin to look at her.

"Oh hello, how did you get out here? I wonder if you're lost." She said in a careful tone, usually reserved for walking up on stray animals that startle the daylights out of you.

You don't know the half of it. Sirius thought as he took a precautionary step backward onto the street. He didn't worry about cars since the neighborhood was deserted at this time of evening. He perked his ears and cocked his head when he heard the girl speak again after closing the bin's lid.

"What's your name, huh? Hm…you are a big dog though," She proffered her hand, which held a piece of scrap she took from the trash, and clicked her tongue in an attempt to lure him forward. "Come on, don't worry, I don't bite at least! Can't say the same for my parents."

So that is an American accent, where the devil am I anyway!? There are hardly any Americans—oh gods, is she coming closer? She is. Damn. Didn't her parents teach her to never pet strays?

Just then her mother popped her head out of the door and yelled for her daughter. "Lola! Come in sweetie, your dinner's getting cold!"

"Sure mom, but look what I found." She replied as her mother finally noticed the large black dog sitting by the sidewalk, possibly thinking what a sight these two make. Sirius figured wagging his tail a little would seem less imposing. Evidently he had been wrong a lot in the past twenty-four hours.

"Lola come away from that dog, you know better than to touch stray animals."

"But mom, look at him. He's probably starving! Couldn't we just take him in for one night?"

"He's probably not starving, dear. Besides, he seems to have been quite at home with our trash." her mother arched a patronizing eyebrow.

"Fine, it'll be your fault when he does starve to death." Lola said sarcastically, turning back to the house, though not without glancing back at him, and proceeded up the narrow pathway to her front door.

"Whatever you say, Lola."

Back at the curb, an inner turmoil was wrecking havoc in Sirius' mind.

This could be good for you mate, a warm place to stay for the night with no guarantees of being tied down, said the voice of Rationality.

Yes, no guarantee they won't kick you straight out on your arse after giving you a good once over! Said the voice of beloved old Deplorable.

Sirius fidgeted for a few more seconds before throwing caution to the wind and trotted over to Lola before she went inside. She turned to him grinning. "See mom? Told you he wanted to come in."

The girl's mother sighed and crossed her arms, staring at Sirius as if she only just realized he existed. "Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt…and he doesn't have a collar nor does he appear dangerous. But only for ONE night, Lola. Is that clear?"

"Yes mother," Lola nodded while rolling her eyes. "Where should he sleep?"

"I think—"

"Hey Brooke, what's the hold up? You two are standing here for ages."

Sirius greeted the man by sniffing at his shirt. Well, he certainly isn't as beautiful as the mum, but she could do worse. Hmm, do I detect a hint of Chanel 5? I hope the mother is a frequent user, otherwise…

"Oh, who do we have here? So this is what kept you, huh?' He scratched Sirius behind the ears, had he been in his human form he would've decked the man already, though now that he was deprived of such fondness it felt too good. He really ought to think about seeing a psychiatrist. "Nice looking guy too, pretty big isn't he? Probably a descendent from the Hounds, or Great Dane."

"That he is. David, your daughter thinks he should stay the night, to which I agreed."

"Did you now? All right Lola I suppose it couldn't hurt, he sleeps in the living room then. He may appear calm and collected now, but he's still a stray."

"Okay dad, did you micro my plate?"

"Already waiting for you." He smiled as they all headed for the dining room, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle handsomely.

"All settled? Good. As for tomorrow, we have a dinner meeting with the Robinson's and I would like to get there early and find a decent—"

"Oh, I just remembered, he needs a name!" Lola had gotten up from the table and walked over where Sirius lay beside the Fireplace, gently stroking the fur between his ears, not that he wanted to be disturbed at this point when he eventually found the right spot. Kids, he thought for the twelfth time since entering this house.

"Lola he doesn't need a name, he's staying for just tonight."

"I know that mom; we should still call him something for now."

"Hey, maybe we should name him Scooby. Or Shag."

Why you lousy condescending mother—

Sirius' string of curses was cut short as Lola coughed. "Yeah, sure dad, or we could all gag instead."

David shrugged and opened the weather application on his cell phone. "Just a suggestion. Honey did you see the forecast for tomorrow? A high of Fifty-three, gonna be a chilly one for Maine. You should bring that white pea coat I just brought you."

"Ahem," Brooke glanced at his phone pointedly. "Dave. Phone. Dinner. Now."

"Yeah, sure. Sorry." David slipped his phone in his pocket. They were trying to come to a compromise by agreeing that if he refrained from using his phone during dinner, she would refrain from using her Visa excessively during family outings. So far, Brooke was winning.

The rest of the conversation faded into a black hole as Sirius finally comprehended what David said and snapped his head to attention, if he were human right now his eyes would've looked as round as saucers. I apperated to Maine? Why? Where did I go wrong in my past life?

"Anyway, I think I should be the one to name you, seeing as I discovered you."

Please, Merlin and whoever the hell is up or down there, don't let it be… Beethoven. Or Sputnik. I would surely die of shame.

"How about…Snuffles!"

Sirius rested his head on his paws, grumbling a bit in dog language, and sighed. Bloody Americans, of all the places to end up, and of all the things to be named THAT is what she picks—it was so obvious, why didn't I see this coming? Maine, for heaven's sake!

"I knew he would like it, didn't you mom?"

I'll tell you what I'd like to do…

"Yeah, that has a cute ring to it, charmingly in contrast to his appearance."

This never would've happen if it weren't for that bloody Peter Pettigrew!

After putting the dishes away and placing a blanket out for Sirius, praying he wouldn't decide to take a midnight trip to relieve himself, she padded upstairs. Generally he did enjoy the company of people despite how judgmental he sounded about the whole ordeal; American or not, it was just he sometimes perceived them as a tad too silly and loud—with their cellular phones and fast paste lives, it's a wonder they have any energy to make proper tea. Sirius was still thankful to get some peace when he heard a door open and saw Lola tiptoe quietly back down the stairs.

"Nox," The light in the living room evaporated, leaving the soft glow of a full moon as the only source of illumination to accompany him. "Night Snuffles; don't let the fleas bite."

September came with unusually brisk wind and rain to match, though Lola Pevensie found that she couldn't be any less excited and happy to finally be on her way back to Hogwarts. Despite her parents having issues, and there was definitely something they weren't telling her, she was even more thrilled that after five baths, about three bowls of Kibble 'n Bits, and a heavily applied Flea repellent, they decided a dog would be good for her and especially for protection when they went out on their weekly 'business' meetings. Lola could tell that whenever she would bring up the subject of what they actually did for a living, they would practically shut her out by telling her the time wasn't right for her to know and to stop prying where it wasn't needed. She wasn't prying exactly, she was just curious. Weren't most kids her age a little curious about what their parents did at work? Probably, therefore she chalked it up to either the C.I.A or International Spies, and whatever it was they did is so top secret that they're sworn into silence; thus even telling their daughter would result in immediate dismissal. Or worse, death.

'Now Lola, I think you're being quite ridiculous." Chimed a reading Hermione Granger. After getting a slightly poor grade in Herbology last term, she was second to another girl in the class and had become determined over summer break to catch up.

They were seated across from each other, with Harry Potter to her far left and Luna Lovegood in the middle, while Neville longbottom took a place near the window beside Hermione. The two had become friends almost over night mainly through their love of books, when Hermione got a little too bossy or acted like a know-it-all Lola would usually be the one to put her back in place. Nice as possible of course, while occasionally resorting to playful banter now and then. That aside, Hermione was actually a very compassionate and driven individual, Lola just couldn't understand why when they first met the other students seemed to mock and demean her, without taking the time to really know her. Well, Lola never saw the issue if it was just because she had intelligence and a desire to learn about everything at her fingertips, so she made a point of studying with her whenever she could, which soon got Hermione talking and the two eventually wrote over the summer. As for Harry, it was really inexplicable how they came to be a 'trio' of sorts, it's like they each had something to contribute to the other and ever since their first year they just clicked, unassuming as he was most times, Harry liked to keep his feelings to himself until he thought of you as someone to trust—which wasn't necessarily a bad way to be lately.

Lola also felt a special understanding to the local outcast and open-minded Luna Lovegood. Being a transfer from America doesn't always come easy, some students seemed to expect something of a low-acumen from her and unwarranted frivolity—and the running 'yank' jokes were certainly getting old. But Lola would only grin wickedly whenever problems arose while providing a sharp comeback and walk off, leaving even Malfoy to purse his lips and sulk for the remainder of the day. Though she mostly projected a serene but serious manner for someone of her age and lithe frame, while staying occasionally humorous, Lola could kick up a right fuss when the time called and once sent Ernie Macmillan scurrying down the corridor for saying something rude about Fred and George. Even McGonagall had looked at her with a bit of apprehension during Transfiguration class. Lola liked to blame it on her Native background; her mother called it the 'force' and it became one of those weird jokes that only your family can understand.

"Yet I was right about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Twice. Maybe that's who they're working to protect us from. Coincidence? I think not, Hermione."

"I think yes, Lola. If there were one of course," she sighed and closed her book, turning to look at Neville. "What do you believe, Nev?"

"Huh? Oh. Well I suppose Lola could have a point," Neville replied distractedly. Lola found that she like the way he would sprout off random facts about nature or share his insight on recurrences affecting the Muggle world, and she begin discussing the Daily Prophet with him at breakfast. She also begin noticing that he and Luna seemed to get along well. Very.

"Would turn out to be pretty wicked if her folks were Spies or something, though. Maybe you're wrong."

Hermione never really knew how to respond to his distant and straightforward reasoning. "Right. Well, how about you two then?"

"I suspect Wackpurts have taking over a colony of Dabberblimps. They can be peaceful creatures but quite hostile when one of their kind has been taken hostage; which is likely what happened and what I suspect your parents are hiding."

Everyone except Lola and Harry, who had an amused but knowing grins on their faces, stared. Until Lola sent them small glares about their rudeness and Luna shrugged, saying she was used to it in that wispy voice of hers. Hermione was about to defend her logic more when surprisingly Cedric Diggory wondered into the compartment to tell them news about Hagrid's teaching position.

"That's brilliant, Cedric. What class is he teaching?" Hermione asked shyly. Most of Gryffindor knew she had a serious crush on Cedric, but he rarely seemed to notice her and was almost oblivious to the gossip that spread around the two. Or he appeared to be; though he may have been a few years older, Lola had caught him smiling at her friend more than once while they studied in the Library.

"Care of Magical Creatures class. They've supposedly gotten a Hippogriff. I can't wait to see it. Hell, I can't wait to…whoops. Can't tell you that bit." Cedric said in a whisper, giving them all an amiable lop-sided grin that reached his grey eyes. The group was a little stunned to see him so excited, he usually stayed quiet when anything regarding teachers or the staff came about and refrained from speaking unless spoken to, unlike some of his rowdy friends.

Lola felt Hermione would probably clam up at any direct questioning towards Cedric, so she interrupted instead. "Hippogriff? Why, are we not supposed to know about them? Surely they can't be dangerous."

"They aren't, only I wasn't meant to tell you all so soon, as it was a surprise. I just heard and couldn't contain my urging excitement." Despite his joke, a slight blush creeping its way up his pale cheeks.

"Sure Cedric, and I've seen the hound of baskerville roaming Black Lake." Lola remarked, earning her a laugh from even Hermione.

"Yeah well, I'd better get going. Ernie is waiting to share a word about the Quidditch match next week. Oh, and nice work telling him off last term, Lola. Got pretty tetchy when we carried on the whole day about it, he did."

Lola simply smiled and returned to playing finger-wiggle with Crookshanks, Cedric gave them all a curt nod and dashed off to rejoin his friends.

That happened a week ago, Lola thought as she set on the floor of the common room, only a week had passed and now an innocent Buckbeak would no longer reside at Hogwarts—no thanks to that idiot Draco Malfoy and his equally idiotic father. Lola sat in the common room shifting through various pages of law books in hopes of finding some new flaw in the terrible situation Malfoy had gotten Buckbeak in. She was very upset to learn the news of Buckbeak's sentence, she was just beginning to like the uniqueness of the often-inquisitive creature, his tranquility and pride also reminded her a lot of Fawkes in some ways.

"There has to be something we can do!" Lola mentioned angrily, slamming her fifth law book closed.

"I've searched just as hard as you have, there is nothing more we can do for him except hope that it's over..." Hermione's voice faltered and she was visibly holding back tears as Lola stood up from her position on the floor to comfort her friend. She took a deep breath and let out the words she hadn't said with it. "Quickly."

"Cheer up Hermione, besides, it's not like we didn't get to touch him or see him at all, yeah?" Harry offered in a small voice. He was at a lost as to what to do whenever one of his friends was emotionally upset, particularly when they were girls.

Hermione narrowed her eyes defiantly at Harry, head held high and already thinking of a few choice words to throw in his face, mainly about his thick headedness and lack of sensitivity for a beautiful creature when Lola spoke up and grabbed Hermione's hand. "I think what Harry is trying to say is that it's sometimes better to have known then never at all," she hurriedly explained before things got really heated and someone said something they didn't mean. "We were all beginning to enjoy Buckbeak, yes, but in the end we still have memories."

Lola finished with a sigh; as if she was trying to make herself believe that only memories could suffice what little time they had spent with Buckbeak. Regardless of this fact, Hermione nodded and asked Neville to hand her a tissue. "You're right, Lola. I just can't help but feel sorry for him when he doesn't deserve this."

"Neither can I, which is why I'm going straight to Fudge and tell him so."

"But he'd never believe you, you're just a third year." Neville put the tissue box on the end table, not before knocking over a chessboard, and mentally kicked himself for his clumsiness again. Lola crossed her arms, getting more than a little tired of having every option shot down at this point. "I'm only saying that you need to remember our protesting against anything hardly matters in their eyes. You'd be better off talking to Dumbledore."

Harry glanced at Neville when he mentioned their headmaster's name, everyone new he greatly admired the elder wizard and often defended him from any remarks some students dared to make behind his back. "I rather think Dumbledore is on board as well. Reckon he sort of has to be since he can't very well go against the ministry and stay on as a Professor. He's in the middle of this mess just like we are."

"You've spoken to him then, Harry?" Neville asked skeptically. He believed Harry meant well, but sometimes those he greatly admired could blind him.

"Yes, in fact he doesn't want to see Buckbeak killed as much as us. But like you said, we can't really do anything."

Lola groaned and leaned back on sofa, placing her hands over her eyes, wishing Luna was here. She would undoubtedly tilt her head looking dreamily off into space and give them all some lucrative saying, then skip away to find better usage of her time. "This blows."

Neville looked up at her quizzically from his spot on the floor beside the sofa. "Er…Blows?"

Lola peeked out from under her hands. "Yeah, you know, it sucks. It's stupid. Lame. What a drag. Getting the picture here, Nev?"

Neville nodded, though she could tell he didn't understand why American's harbored such funny names for the simplest of things. She was thinking back to their second year and how she spent an hour explaining the definition of a 'jerk' to him because he had kept asking too many adorkable questions. Adorkable—another word she dreaded saying that year and this time it lasted almost two hours before she finally stopped him and told him that doing something 'dorky' didn't always mean you were a 'dork'. Lola lifted her head, listening to the soft ticking of the clock inching its way to seven-thirty, and noticed the common room had grown awfully quiet when she saw everyone was gone.

"Well, so much for small favors." She mumbled to herself as footsteps hurriedly approached from the corridor.

"Lola, come on! Hermione, Luna, and Harry are waiting for us. It's almost…it's almost time." Neville said sadly, his shoes were suddenly the most interesting objects in the world.

"We should go then, champ." Lola offered him a small smile upon using her favorite nickname for him.

"Right. Time to face the music, eh?"

Lola laughed a bit as the weirdness of him saying that sunk in. "Whatever you say, Nev."

It was seven-thirty by the time the reached Hagrid's hut, until they saw Fudge along with Dumbledore and the executioner coming down the path and Hagrid hastily pushed them all out the back door, saying it would be very unwise if they were caught talking to him under the circumstances. They managed to get at the top of the hill overlooking his hut and watched as the birds flew off from the sound of the blade dropping. Except for Hermione who had put her head on Harry's shoulder and held Crookshanks to her chest, blocking out any view of the execution. Harry silently responded by holding her tightly.

They were about to go back to their dorm when Malfoy came striding up donning a nauseating, self-satisfying smirk, chest protruding proudly and looking for all the world like he owned Hogwarts.

"Well, look who we have here, Crabb and Goyle, the filthy mud-blood and her helpful band of nutters come to enjoy the show." Draco and his friends snickered and shoved each other. By now, if Lola were any angrier steam would've been visible at the top of her head. But apparently it was too much for Hermione in one day, much like it was for all of them, and Draco hardly had time to duck before Lola or anyone else could do anything when the first blow landed.

"Nice shot, Hermione!" Lola pumped a fist in the air and clapped, beaming at her friend. She was usually against using violence to solve bulling, but sometimes a person just asked for it.

Hermione had already pulled out her wand and held it up to Draco's throat. Prepared to cast a rather nasty hex or worse, either way, Harry reached her before the rest could and grabbed her hand. "He's not worth it, Hermione. He's not worth getting in trouble for!"

Hermione let out a frustrated growl and took a step back as the other boys sped off to the castle with Draco in tow. She returned her wand to the safety of her pocket and picked up Crookshanks once more, who was a tad displeased over being abruptly dropped. Hermione took several deep breaths before speaking, seeming more at ease.

"That. Felt. Brilliant."

"You were amazing. That complete douche bag totally had it coming." Lola said as the others agreed. They failed to see that Luna quickly let go of Neville's hand she'd been holding for support when Crookshanks captured their attention by biting Hermione's arm.

"Ouch! Crookshanks, what's the matter with you?" Hermione said disbelievingly as her cat leaped out of her arms and ran off in the direction of the Womping Willow. Hermione followed in close pursuit, wondering why her cat was acting so strangely, but Crookshanks kept zigzagging whenever she got near enough to catch him.

"Hermione, wait up!" Lola yelled a few feet behind her. The boys along with Luna had yet to reach them.

Suddenly Hermione screamed and pointed next to Lola, or rather she thought she did. Lola spun around in time to see a black dog emerged from the woods beside them; she fleetingly though the dog's size would match that of her Snuffles at home when he bounded across the lot and headed straight for Hermione.

Before Lola could warn her friend, however, the dog pushed her down and dragged her towards the volatile tree, going directly through a hole located at the base of it. Hermione was yelling her friend's name as she disappeared from view.

Harry and the others finally caught up with Lola as she tried to collect her bearings. "What happened? We heard Hermione screaming and saw that weird dog approaching you two. Is that why Crookshanks ran off?"

"No, that dog took Hermione into the entrance and we have to get her back. Come on!" Lola started to move forward but had to crouch down as a huge branch swept overhead; of course Harry missed the memo and was knocked down with a loudly 'thud'.

Catching his breath, he allowed Lola to help him get to his feet and until she noticed something odd about the roots of the tree. She whispered to Harry as they all backed out of the blundering limbs way.

"Do you see that root there? I wonder if that's how the dog got in, because the Willow wasn't moving then."

Harry had to squint to see it and nodded, making his glasses that were hanging askew on the bridge of his nose slide further off his face. He straightened them and ran towards the base of the tree, thinking to take the tree by surprise.

"No, not yet!" Lola warned, but Harry was already half-way to the oddly shaped knot. He dove under a flailing limb and pressed the button disguised as a root.

"Way to go Harry!" Neville cheered and entered the entrance with Lola bringing up the rear. She supposed she should've asked why there was an audible 'get off my foot, Neville' from Harry instead of walking right into blackness. Needless to say, he broke the fall. Again. Lola muttered an apology and Harry said it was a good thing he's the resilient one of the group.

"Which way do you suppose they went, Lola?"

"No idea. But I think we should follow those stairs judging by the sound of shuffling above."

Once their eyes adjusted to the constant moving of the room, they came upon a door which Lola opened immediately despite Luna's warning of danger.

"Hermione!" They found her sitting on an absurdly old and worn sofa. Minus a few scratches and one badly sprained leg, she seemed fine.

"Oh thank goodness. It's just there. He's absolutely horrid!" Hermione said worriedly and pointed over the group's shoulder towards the door.

Lola put a hand to her mouth, the shock of actually seeing who the mystery dog really was made everything finally register. "Snuffles? But how did—"

Lola's words caught in her throat as she watched her lovable pet transform into a man of about thirty, with straggly black hair, unhealthy pale skin, and his body was practically emaciated for someone his age and height. Though she was given the impression that once he may have been considered very attractive, clearly something terrible happened to change his entire form in such a drastic way.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not Snuffles."

It was then Harry recognized him—how could he have forgotten when this man's face was plastered on practically every street corner? Azkaban escapee and distinct betrayer of Harry's parents; and the very fugitive who managed to get the whole wizard world buzzing with fear and excitement, Sirius Black. He had apparently followed Lola to Hogwarts and saw her as his next target; along with her friends since they were now all witnesses to what would surely be a dreadful battle, leaving only one survivor yet again. Amidst all of that, Harry wondered why he would bother to return here. And where did Lola fit in this?

Harry remembered how students would speculate where she was really from and how she came about transferring here, when Hogwarts never accepted transfers.

Maybe her family is working with him; it would explain how she so keenly knew that Voldemort was the reason behind the bad things happening at Hogwarts for the past two years. Harry thought sullenly and moved slowly in front of Hermione, obscuring her from view completely. Should anything happen, at least Hermione wouldn't take the full blow and have a chance to find help.

"Now, I'm afraid he must pay for what he did." Sirius said forcefully, glaring at the group of young wizards menacingly and taking a step forward.

Lola followed Sirius' eyes and glanced in Harry's direction. Why was he looking at her friend so strangely, and what was he planning? She had begun to hope the three of them would be enough to take on an experienced wizard such himself if the rumors proved true, when Sirius pulled out his wand and lunged at Harry.

A/N: If you're wondering about the whole 'apperate' business, I remember reading somewhere that when Sirius broke out of Azkaban, he couldn't control where he apperated to. This is loosely based on that and the reason why he ended up way across the pond—plus, no one knows exactly where Azkaban is located …after that it gets a little fuzzy seeing as I read it sometime ago. Anyway, if this bothers you, sorry. If this is the wrong information, tell me and I'll see what I can change about it, since I'm slightly worried this will blow the entire story out of proportion. :/

Thanks for taking time to read it!


	2. II - Tables Turned

Rating goes up to T+ for this chapter.

**Summery:**_ What if Remus and Snape never showed up in the shrieking shack?_

**A/N:** Don't pay much attention to the poorly done picture for this fic and my usual desire for something dark or mysterious, lol. I blame listening to OneRepublic's Native.

I know the first chapter was a little bleak and this picks up right after that (which I'll edit eventually), but hopefully I can keep things flowing in the right direction. About the last name, that was an unlucky (and forgotten) conicidence and is in no way related to a certain three siblings with major access to a fantasy world – might change it later though. Hopefully to avoid too much confusion, the Marauders era in this fic are placed where Harry Potter's era would've started (as in 1991 and so on) and I'm sorry for not explaining that in chapter one, that was completely my fault. Minor note on two things, confident!Harry makes an appearance, but he's still the same old Harry mostly and Sirius acts a bit OOC. Ron will probably make an appearance in later chapters…although I'm still not sure about the fate of him, I really didn't want to go the route of character death. Either way, R&amp;R is pretty appreciated and if you have any ideas for the future, drop me a PM.

Enjoyxx

What is he doing here? Why did he have to ruin everything when I am so close to reaching my goal? He is not going to be pleased if I fail…

The black haired witch thought this with a strange sense of uneasiness as she glanced around the old shack, thick with years of dust and essentially a spider's dreamland, but she saw no means of escape other than which they came. There were four wizards too many and things weren't going according to plan. If only she had more time. For now, she would have to make do.

"Leave her alone. What do you want with us?" Harry stated firmly as he blocked her from their attacker. If he wanted her, he would have to go through him first.

Sirius Black lowered his wand slightly and huffed. "Are you really going to protect this murderer, Harry?"

"How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot more than you think, now move!"

"No, not after what you've done."

Harry lunged towards Sirius, but he was able wrestle Harry to the ground and kicked his wand across the room. _He really is his father's son_, he thought eloquently before getting to his feet. "All of you stay where you are."

"Or what? Is Mr. Invincible going to kill us? You know just as well as I do that it would not coincide well with your recent track record."

"Don't bait him. I'm the one he wants anyway. Why can't you leave the rest of them alone?"

Sirius laughed bitterly and waved his wand at the deceitful witch standing behind his Godson. "Oh, use your head! Haven't you wondered why she hasn't fought back yet? Think for a moment what she just said. In quite a tight spot, aren't you Elizabeth? Your given name perhaps, but I'm willing to bet you've had several others over the years."

Harry glanced at his friend. Something dark flickered in her eyes for a brief second and then vanished as he noticed she had her back against the wall with her wand carefully pointing at each of them. "Lola, what—"

"Do you know him?" Luna suddenly asked as she came forward a bit, but remembered Sirius' warning and stopped. "Is that why you insisted we go to Buckbeak? You did seem to know exactly where to lead us."

She glared and clapped her hands indolently. She had almost brought herself to feign some meek interest in 'Loony' Lovegood, but often the girl talked utter nonsense or became distinctly keen in her approach to unveil other people and their habits. Which didn't help matters now that her identity would be found out. They were just children anyway and children could be kept quiet much easier than adults. It was Black that was going to prove difficult, but since those people she was forced to call her parents worked for the Muggle government (which had come as a nice little surprise by way of the Legilimens spell), it may not be so complicated after all. Once they realized Sirius was a wizard, it would be icing on the cake.

"I should've given you more credit, Luna. I realized this incompetent idiot had been following me once I heard of the sightings at school."

"But why didn't you say something?" Hermione said, worry lines already etched in her brow, hugging Crookshanks tighter.

"And throw away everything I'd worked for? I would've expected _better_ from you, but then you always did care too much." She narrowed her eyes, but Hermione advoided this by putting her head down.

Harry stared coldly at Sirius, more out of disbelief than anything. The situation was getting totally out of hand. "None of what you said makes sense. How could she be a murderer?"

"Because she is a direct decendent of Salazar Slytherin, Harry! She is one of the reasons why Voldemort is still alive today."

"But Voldemort is dead, I saw it myself."

"I can assure you, he isn't."

"Then prove it."

"He doesn't need to prove it, Harry, I'm sure your Godfather knows firsthand about the Dark Lord and his penchant for iniquity activities."

Hermione, Luna, and Harry all turned towards Lola. Or rather, Elizabeth, who now held her wand out defensively against each of them. Unbeknownst to the group, Neville had slipped out in search of help. Harry, who would've clearly seen this had his attention not been focus solely on the scene before him, which was unraveling to be one of the worse mistakes he ever made, was taken completely aback. "_What?_"

"Oops, did I let that slip? God, it was so pathetically easy to convince you idiots! And that phony American accent? Those clothes? Seriously?" Everyone found themselves in sort of a daze, the shock of that statement hang in the air and rendered them incapable of movement. Everyone except Sirius, that is. "Oh, _poor _innocent littleBuckbeak! That foul creature deserved to be put to rest for all its worth."

"Give me the wand, Elizabeth. Give me the wand and we can decide how to handle this. I know what you did may not be entirely your fault."

She clicked her tongue and chuckled. As if she would just sit here and listen to his feeble pleas, he was still a mangy mutt in her eyes. "Well, nice to see you have a brain, and here I thought you only lived for scrapes of food snuck under the table. Dare I ask how you knew? I could've sworn I was ever so mindful."

"Honestly, I've had better scrapes in a dumpster. But you weren't _mindful_ enough. Remember that journal you kept in your closet? You actually thought I, the master of secrets himself, wouldn't find such a poorly concealed compartment did you? Although cheap would suffice just as well. Ha! You really aren't the brightest witch."

She scoffed and was about to resort to something snide when Hermione spoke up, eyes wet and lips pressed into a thin line as she faced the room, refusing to show her now traitor of a friend any more weakness than she did already. Elizabeth frowned at this in disgust. "All this time…you let me think we were your friends. Just what are you planning to do?"

"Enough! I grow tired of these excessive questions. Drop your wands and maybe I'll let one of you live. Or would any of you care to join me instead?"

"It's four against one!"

She grinned. "Oh, there are ways of casting more than one spell at a time. Don't you ever study, Harry? I suppose Hermione here does most of that doesn't she? Not to mention three of you are thirteen while one is an escaped convict. A _fragile_ convict, I might add."

"You're lying! There's no way that can happen."

True, she'd had her fair share of battles. Since joining with the Dark Lord it became almost an everyday occurrence, not all successful and most ended in death for either party, and no witch or wizard that she knew of could produce several spells at once, but _they_ wouldn't know it for sure. Not if she could induce them. "Are you willing to take that chance, golden boy?"

Sirius started to cast Petrificus when she raised her wand and shouted.

"No! You will not ruin my opportunity to reign beside the Dark Lord, not when victory is within my grasp." She spat out the last sentence with such venom that Crookshanks hissed. In her mad state, she forgot all the others and aimed her wand at him thinking to cast the Entrail-Expelling Curse, but he quickly casted Stupefy.

He straightened and looked at Harry. "There's your proof."

"Don't think I would've needed it anyway."

"She won't be out for long, let's get you three back to the castle." He rushed over to Hermione, quickly using Freula on her leg to create a splint. He motioned for Harry as they helped Hermione to her feet. Not knowning his one mistake was keeping his back turned on the girl lying on the floor.

"Is it true, Sirius? You're my Godfather?"

"Yes. Would've mentioned it sooner had I not been so…preoccupide."

Of course, there was no unconscious girl lying on the floor at the moment. There was no sign of the girl anywhere. Because that was when they heard a hiss – one that did not emit from Crookshanks, which prompt them all to turn and catch a glimpse of a snake's tail slithering its way out of a reasonably thin crack in the wall. And thus, the interrogation started.

"Where is she going?" Harry asked angerily.

"What are we going to do now?" Hermione questioned worriedly.

"Do you think Neville saw her leave?" Luna wondered inquiringly.

Sirius closed his eyes, feeling a major headache coming on. Not just from the fact he was starving, thirsty and wanted a long soak (it had become essential at this point). Time to derail this train. "All right! One, I don't know but she can't have gotten very far, and no one can apperate on school grounds. Two, _we_ aren't going to do anything because _you_ three are going to return to the castle and alert Dumbledore of the sitiuation. Especially since we now know that she's an Animagus, possibly unregistered, and she must've casted a Disillusionnment Charm the second our backs were turned, which is why we only witnessed a part of her tail. Lastly…who?"

"And you happen to stumble upon this? Helping her along, are you?" Hermione interrupted harshly before Luna could open her mouth. Sometimes she could see why the most intelligent witch in school didn't have many friends.

"For what reason? As if my name isn't muddled enough." He blinked. He noted she was probably angrier at finding out the truth of her friend's real motive than at him. It still came as a little startling despite how timid she seemed.

"Come on, Hermione. You know what…she said," Harry realized he could hardly bring himself to say her name. "Are you really accusing him after everything you've just heard?" He saw that she still had unshed tears in her eyes and the pain in them was unmistakable.

She had her head down for a bit before replaying the words Harry had said and figured they made sense even if she didn't agree with him.

"Fine. But don't expect me to like him, I don't care if he is your Godfather."

Sirius nodded solemnly. Who could blame her after all they've been through? They were just regular kids caught up in a dangerous grownup world, he wished to Merlin they could be left alone to enjoy their lives to the fulliest as it should be, but then Merlin had never been overly fond of him to begin with. "I'd be concerned if you didn't."

"Um, Sirius? Did Crookshanks help you as well? Is that why he ran off?"

"Oh yes, he helped a great deal. Really am sorry about the leg, I had to do something to attract her attention. You have a very brilliant and loyal cat, Hermione. Looks as though he's been brutally punched in the face, but loyal no less."

Harry snickered. If she knew how many times him and Neville said the same thing, she would hex them before they had a chance to apologize; Hermione however was a bit perplexed, but managed a quick smile. "Thanks. I think."

They had stopped to rest when Hermione complained she needed a break and that her wound might be worse than she'd thought. Luna had already gone ahead to find Neville and after checking to make sure she was settled comfortably, Harry decided there were still a few pieces of the puzzle missing. He stood beside Sirius as he picked up a stone and threw it over the side of the hill that overlooked Black Lake.

"How can she be related to him?"

"No idea, Harry. I just know what little I found from her Journal."

"There must be some explanation. Where do you think she is?"

"Does it matter now? She is the person who told Wormtail I was the wrong choice as your parents' Secret-Keeper, and she did so in hopes that Voldemort would kill him and thus she would take his place. She is much older than she looks and possibly almost as powerful as Voldemort himself, although that I have yet to see."

"I wondered why she acted so superior over us for someone our age. Thought it just came from her being a bit of a Know-It-All."

"A simple, but advanced aging potion. While effective, only lasts for exactly two months and it must be brewed on the first full moon." Harry nodded, that explained why she was always absent once a month.

"What more do you know about the Journal?"

"Little else really, I know it once belonged to the Gaunt family but I never finished it. I had intended to confront her about it the day before she left for Hogwarts, I never had another chance and ironically, it's when I found it. But her mother had insisted she take me for a walk before Elizabeth awoke. Funny, the woman didn't trust me enough to be alone with until then."

"Do you think she had something to do with it?"

"Who knows? Do I think she used a Confundus Charm on her parents and teachers to make them think of her as an average teenager in order to progress through life normally? It's likely. I wouldn't put anything past anyone related or associated with Voldemort. But I suspect she may also have a highly manipulative influence, which is key to obtain what she wants, or she could've been under Voldemort's control entirely—as I hardly observed anything out of the ordinary until coming across that Journal, of course she keeps it with her every second since she left for Hogwarts. Probably knew by then that I was starting to figure out a good deal of what went on. The point is I thought I could return to Hogwarts in time and didn't. I failed, Harry. I failed to protect you and your friends, and for that I am truly sorry."

"That's not true, no one blames you."

"But they will. Once they find out I escaped and—Harry," Sirius paused and placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to Merlin the boy would listen well and not muck up what he was about to offer beyond repair and change history for the worst. "There is indeed a possible path you could try, but it is very risky and you could alter the lives involved forever, and not necessarily in a good way. Although traveling in your own timeline is bad enough."

"What do you mean? What does my timeline have to do with anything?"

"I'm talking about going back in time, Harry. Twenty-six years to be exact. Because _your_ timeline won't have existed, it is especially dangerous for you. I couldn't accomplish such a feat for obvious reasons."

Harry was completely confused at this point. Was what he suggested actually possible? "I'm not sure I understand, you're saying Time Travel is real?"

"Yes, lots of things that are supposedly non-existent are in fact real and become quite acceptable once you see how simple it can be – even a magnificent creature such as a Nargle. I'd take a note from your friend, miss Lovegood. Seems like a very fascinating girl."

"You've seen a Nargle?"

At this Sirius hesitated; sometimes he really did hate to ramble. Although chances were awfully slim, he supposed it couldn't hurt if Harry ever found himself in a jam. "Well, yes but you mustn't go telling this to everyone as they are incredibly smart but value their privacy above all else. Quite the furry little things they are, big ears and long snout. Ah, never mind. What you will _need_ to mind is not go galloping around in the past, the past is called that for a reason and most things shouldn't be changed. Nor should anyone ever see or touch you. God knows how that would affect your original timeline. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but all that you've said Sirius is…well, unbelievable. Just how am I supposed to do any of what you mentioned? And without knowing what to look for?"

Sirius could understand why his Godson would be doubtful and accompanied with his record of Azkaban no less, he would be doubtful himself had he not witnessed it with his own eyes. "That's where Hermione comes in," They rushed over to where she was sitting, gently stroking Crookshanks' fur. "Er, Hermione? I'm afraid we're definitely going to need that Time-Turner of yours."

Sirius sighed when Hermione started to question his motives again. He really was getting too old for this.

_Either way, we're fucked now._

When Snape reached the grounds the first thing that caught his attention was a full moon shrouded by a whisp of clouds and a strong wind that cut through the night air causing chill to run down his spine. He strangely found himself wondering if Remus had taken the Wolfsbane Potion he provided especially for nights like these. The second thing was Potter and his miserable friends roaming the grounds after curfew, that would also explain why Longbottom had looked scared when bounding up the stairs. Not that it was any of his concern now after the what he'd been through today, but the satisfation of catching them would surely make up for lost times. First, a student (gladly given detention) spills a freshly made potion over his desk which turned his exam papers to a surpsingly bright turquoise color, then another student (should've been given detention) unleashes several pixes that were confined Merlin knows where in the Great Hall supposedly by 'mistake' when a prank goes horribly wrong. Ironically it was not one of the Weasleys. And now Potter had gotten himself into another fine mess, which he'll probably talk his way out of again by favor of Dumbledore. It has been a long day and the last thing he wanted to do was tell the ministry of a potential Death Eater on the loose and an excaped prisoner of Azkaban. However, this would change once they knew just what Black was planning to do – which wouldn't be hard to prove, and that included Boy Wonder, he may finally be appointed headmaster.

A/N:…Intimidate McGonagall? As if.

Aside from _that_, this was a rushed chapter due to me being behind a tad on my exams, so I'll probably end up editing this one too. I'm also not sure if you can cast a Disillusionnment Charm while in Animagus form; the idea was just interesting to me at least (if you've run arcoss something that says you can't, tell me). Thanks for reading.


	3. III - Broken Memories

**A/N**: Another semi-short chapter and things get challenging—continues exactly where chapter 2 left off and I think the beginning is a bit 'flaky' but whatever. I had a little more time to put in this, and I guess it shows. Although, I don't think I can potray emotions well when it comes to Harry…Probably because I spend more time writing other characters than him. Especially his temperment at times, which is understandable given the shit load of responsibility he had to deal with on top of hormones. Kind of had to start over since half my stories on my hardrive were lost (and hopefully can be recovered) because like an idiot I didn't MAKE time to write them down. No big deal though since all except two/three got published.

Enjoyxx

"And you knew this how? I promised Professor McGonagall not to breathe a word to anyone."

"Curiosity got the best of me. I happened to be passing by a window outside and saw the exchange between you two."

It wasn't often someone could make her look shocked, but Sirius turned out to be the right man for the job.

"Hermione, there is no time for more questions. Sirius thinks we have a way of stopping her for good."

"Sirius seems to think a lot of things," Hermione huffed, he may be her friend's Godfather, but what did they really know about him? He could be working with Elizabeth for all they knew. She thought that was one of Harry's worst faults; if a family member or friend has gained his trust, he became blinded to almost anything they may have done wrong to the point of absurdity until it involved him directly.

"You have my word on my mother's grave," Merlin, what the hell was he saying? He couldn't stand his mother's ways, but it sounded good in the form of a promise at least—he was grasping at straws and what if his plan didn't work? All this talking was getting on his nerves and he was dying to tell them to shut their traps and listen.

_Go easy, Sirius. They're only kids. Though this Hermione character was more irritating than he'd first thought, she's just a child and Harry's friend, if he's anything like James than she must mean a great deal to him._

He took a deep breath to steady himself and stared her straight in the eyes, hoping his patient tone of voice would get through to her, he wasn't looking to win any new friends for goodness sake. "I'm trying to help. Now, will you give me a chance? Your lives are not the only ones in danger, you know."

She gave a nod and he continued.

After explaining what needed to be done, since Elizabeth was probably half way through the Forbidden Forest by now and there was no use trying to find her in the oncoming twilight and risk losing her by waiting for morning, Hermione remained a bit skeptical but decided her suspicions would have to wait for later—they didn't have much time. Sirius commended Harry on surviving his Aunt and Uncle, and was very proud of him for standing up for himself when he managed to make his Uncle Vernon's sister Marge…well, inflate—he would've loved to have that sort of an advantage over Snape, if he knew he could get away with it. Harry wanted badly to ask him to stay, to help him make things right and live with him, but he knew it was futile to even think such a thing, and when he told Dumbledore, how he hated to, what would happen then? Or did Dumbledore already know? He'd have to cross that bridge later. Before transforming into a dog, he gave Harry one last encouraging smile, and ran off into the night.

Back in the Hospital wing however, Hermione was feeling distinctly better. Madam Pomfrey had bandaged her leg with the up most care—minus a few annoyed glares and grimaces from her patient. It was only a bad sprain, one she'd predicted before they even sat down, and Hermione would be back on her feet in next to no time.

"Do you still have your Invisibility Cloak?" She asked out of the blue, since Promfrey left, telling him pointedly not to dawdle long or else, Harry's mind had been miles away.

"I grabbed it while Promfrey was tending your leg, figured you'd mention it." He pulled it from beneath a cot next to hers. If it weren't for him holding the cloak, all she would've seen were little fragments of dust floating in mid-air.

"Well, yes. Because I should think you're going to need it," Hermione pulled a necklace out of her pocket, Harry watched with immersed interest as she held it up by its long and impressive golden chain. Beige tinted sand settled at the bottom of the ornament, which had an hourglass nestled in its center; it gleamed in the moon light against the glass. "This is it. Now—

"Is this what you've been using? For skipping classes?"

"Yes! I mean, no. I did _not_ skip any classes, I was in… a terrible fix, but it's not important. Hush. The number of times turning the hourglass corresponds to a number of hours traveling back in time. Ten should do, you must follow it exactly, Harry. Anything more and it could be unsafe."

"Ten? But that would mean—"

"I know. Look at this," She flipped the device over and sure enough, he didn't see a thing. He glanced at her confused. "There, do you see? That small indentation? It's a switch; Professor McGonagall lectured only to use it when absolutely necessary, which she hoped was never. Well, now would be necessary."

"And it's for?"

"It's supposed to symbolize years. Although, the Ministry is skeptical about how it actually works, given it often reveals faulty time frames when one does return from the past. I still don't understand how they gathered that much."

He took the device from her hands, running a thumb over the round glass; he didn't like the dread in eyes of the boy that stared back. "What if that happens? What if I can't get back to my original time, or worse, I mess up everyone else's? Including yours?

She studied her friend, misery forming a pit in her stomach because she couldn't be there to help—terrified things would backfire and throw the world at Voldemort's feet, and once more feeling a bit guilty for thinking what she had about him earlier. Despite their different viewpoint at times, never in another moment did he seem like a person who genuinely wanted to save his friends, which were essentially his family, by risking everything. In the end, she mustered what little courage she had and told him the best lie she could manage.

"Don't worry, my timeline should be fine since you aren't affecting me directly. But I trust that you won't, Harry. Besides, you'll never hear the end of it from me if you do." She gave an apologetic smile as he chuckled. He knew she meant well, but her moist eyes told a different story; a doleful story that spoke its own language and he knew her next words told him the truth.

"I'm afraid for you Harry. God, why does it have to be this way?"

"I'm always afraid, I'm just growing accustomed to it. I wish I had answers, Hermione, but—"

They could hear Madam Promfrey's hurried footsteps coming from the corridor, in a few seconds she would be impatiently checking up on the few other students in the wing and bustling him out saying it was past visiting hours and Hermione needed her rest.

"Remember, _ten_." She said in a hushed tone, the footfalls were drawing closer. "And don't forget the switch!"

He didn't forget, he didn't have time as he turned the hourglass and caught a glimpse of Pormpfrey's shadow. The room abruptly started swirling before him, he watched the sun rise and set outside the window as a mass of colors and shapes began to fuse together until his mind felt as though he'd slipped inside a watercolor, people were scurrying in and out of the wing in a blur when suddenly his ears rang and a low hum resounded that made his teeth ache. Blackness seeped into his conscious like a soothing summer breeze…

_Harry opened his eyes, blinked twice, winced, and immediately closed them again. He sat up and rubbed his head, relieved to find nothing out of the ordinary—except for being sore for a few days, and a quick check that all of his limbs were intact, he seemed fine. He looked around and saw everything as it normally is, stone walls and torches in their rightful places, thankfully he hadn't awoken outside the school. The corridor he was subject to was dim and held a considerable chill; he was reminded of uncle Vernon trying to make his way home through a dense fog one evening they had declared it reasonable for Harry to tag along during a trip to the market, if not to keep a close watch on him. But a nagging feeling of worry remained that said something was still amiss, whatever it was, he knew he didn't belong there and decided that he'd better get moving if he wanted to get a better understanding of his location. Wherever that is. Exactly how hard did he fall?_

_"Because this definitely isn't the Hospital wing." He mumbled and found himself staring at was a classroom. Potions to be precise. Panic rose to the back of his throat like something pungent had lodged itself inside._

_The air was repressive, he tried taking several deep breaths but his current dilemma did not change and succeeded at making himself cough by inhaling a particularly rancid potion that resided on a low shelf full of bejeweled bottles. He understood all too soon what may have happened as he left the Potions classroom and sneaked pass another vacant classroom, ducking into the first narrow passageway he saw. It led to a solid, and heavily bolted door that he hoped no one used recently when he stopped to rest, slipping off the cloak and running a shaky hand through his hair. Everything was turned around, the halls looked completely different than what he was used to. It was obvious when the staircases changed directions entirely and made him late on more than a few occasions, but this was ridiculous!_

_He'd turned it approximately ten times, but apparently when switched to 'years', the Time-Turner didn't always keep you in the same spot where you first eventually made his way into the Gryffindor common room, by happenstance someone was rushing pass and he threw the cloak back over himself while trying to slow his breathing. If he was caught now, who knows if he'd return to the present in one piece?_

_The common room was quiet and a handful of students milled about mainly reading or playing Wizard Snap beside the fireplace, perfect time to dash upstairs unobserved. He followed the pudgy boy from earlier into the dormitories and saw a book tucked tightly under his arm; his name was Peter and judging by the mocking tone one of his classmates used he was not considerably liked. He followed him because this book had red lettering on the front that was starting to fade._

_The same lettering Sirius had mentioned to look for. _

_Peter placed it on the only desk in the room and bent down to search for something in a drawer, a quill possibly. Harry thought this couldn't have been a better opportunity and reached out for the book, as luck would have it, Peter sat upright abruptly and cursed, nearly knocking Harry in the face and he hastily stumbled back. Luckily Peter was so pre-occupied with not finding a proper quill that he hadn't heard Harry. He snatched up the book and hurried out the door, leaving an extremely disappointed and agitated young wizard in his wake. Harry huffed, thinking he had no choice but to follow the boy again and came to a halt when footsteps thundered up the short staircase._

_Harry decided the best place to hide would be under the bed, with his cloak wrapped around him just in case. He saw a lone copy of an old Qudditch magazine and a partially torn shirt that seems to have been once apart of some failed experiment. This was probably his father's bed. Or maybe Sirius, who had expressed great interest in the sport and hoped Harry could make it professionally some day—given Sirius' unfortunate position after Azkaban. If it was never possible for someone to be both dejected and mildly fascinated, he'd just made it so. He clenched his fist tightly and gritted his teeth until his jaw ached in an effort to do something to keep himself from turning over every bed, breaking every desk, and chair in this room, not to mention seriously drawing attention to himself in the process. He chewed on his bottom lip anxiously as the door burst open aided by draft of air, disturbing particles of dust underneath the bed and causing him to pinch the bridge of his nose to avoid blowing his cover, he watched as the boy moved about the room with great urgency._

"_Where is my notebook?" Harry tried to shift back more to see who was speaking, but his feet were already touching the wall. From this angle he could only see the hem of their pant leg and shiny black shoes. "Where is that stupid thing, I know I put it here on the desk."_

_There was a moment of frantic shuffling through paper and the opening of drawers until another figure stepped in, these shoes were dark tan and fairly scuffed—it was uncanny how similar they are to his own shoes. _

"_Hurry up, Pads. We'll be late for class."_

"_Oh shut it, James. We're always late!"_

_Harry closed his eyes and hoped to Merlin he wouldn't forget himself and bolt towards a younger version of his father, who was practically standing before him within arm's length along with his Godfather. It couldn't get more sardonic than that._

"_No, it's entirely your fault which tends to make me look bad. What are you looking for anyway, mate?"_

"_My notebook. It had…something I needed for class in it." Truth be told, he just couldn't quite focus in Charms__ without doodling a bit._

"_Well, if you haven't found it by now, then it's probably not there. I'm sure it'll turn up, yeah?"_

"_Yes, I guess you're right. Let's go." _

_Harry watched them leave and started to inch out. He had to be cautious in case anyone doubled back, so he slowly crept along behind two boys and out into the seventh floor. Once there, he came scarcely close to getting caught when they suddenly bumped into someone…a _female_ someone. Blonde, pale, and a few inches shorter than Sirius. She looked oddly familiar to him, but when she spoke everything came rushing back. He carefully braced himself against the wall, as it was the sturdiest thing he could reach, it also kept him from lunging straight for her throat._

"_Sorry! Didn't see you there."_

"_No, it was my fault. Mum's always going on about how I'm in my own world sometimes!" She said in a rather docile voice—much unlike the low and spiteful tone he heard in the Shrieking Shack. Her light brown eyes squinted a bit when she smiled, it reminded him how he sometimes did this because of forgetting his glasses when reading._

"_That reminds me, Elizabeth, have you seen my notebook anywhere? I suppose I may have left it in the Library after showing you my…well, um," Sirius faltered and snuck a glance at James who didn't look the least bit concerned about his faltering, just a tad more worried than usual and maybe slightly interested in Elizabeth—while she was quite pretty, she seemed too much of a loner for his tastes, and in part she had a tendency to pop up at unusual places without him really noticing. This somewhat unnerved him, but no way on his life was he going to admit that to anyone. He hadn't really told his friends about his drawings and only showed her because he was bored and she insisted that they were good no matter how much of a novice he was. She may have a bit of a reputation for being mysterious, but she proved to be decent company once he got to know her and she had a knack for drawing, her shading may have been darker and more abstract than he would've liked on what little artwork she showed him, but he could always appreciate a good piece of art when it stared him in the face. It was in his blood after all. It also didn't hurt that she probably had a crush on him like half the other girls at Hogwarts._

_"Notes? Yes, thank you. They were immensely helpful." She smiled again, this time too widely, but he figured she was just trying to defuse the awkwardness._

"_What's that you've got there?" Sirius raised his eyebrows. His notebook was half hidden behind her robes. He _must _have left it in the Library, there's no way she could have taken it from the boy's dorm, could she? Seeing as girls, by principle though oddly not enforced through enchantment, clearly weren't allowed. Either way, he was getting desperate to change the topic._

"_Uh, no—I mean yes, this is your notebook. I was just, um…returning it."_

"_So you found it?" He felt a light nudge from his friend and promptly shushed him; they were a few minutes late as usual._

"_Actually, Peter found it. He kind of said that I, with your permission obviously, could look it over whenever I wanted." _

"_Oh," What the hell was Pete doing with his notebook in the first place? "S'pose it's fine, then. Gotta run, yeah? Catch up with you later!"_

"_Bye, Sirius." He and James had already run halfway down the hall (completely forgetting to take the notebook) and she doubted he heard her. Or cared. That would soon change however, she would make sure of it._

_Harry only stood, staring dubiously and half hunched over clutching his stomach, astounded __that Sirius had known her this entire time._

_Harry had followed Elizabeth into the Library, amused a bit at seeing virtually nothing had changed much over the years in this part of the castle, albeit the paint on the walls and columns looked decent and less chipped. Elizabeth sat at the most isolated desk she could find, he inched closer until he could see the pages of book over her shoulder. She was writing something at a fast pace as if she were afraid anyone would notice her and dipping the quill into ink irritably in the middle of a paragraph. But Harry doubted that anyone would care, since she sat in a spot few students ever bothered with, the lighting was poor and the chair could send you spiraling to the floor if you aren't careful. He never understood why no one fixed it… That was when he noticed the words disappeared. Only to reappear in the form of a couldn't be…_

_"Silly boy, using this for all the wrong reasons. Especially when it has so much potential." She mumbled, still writing fervently and breaking him of his thoughts and an unwanted revelation that this is the journal Sirius had spoken about. He remembered barely defeating the Basilisk and using its fang dripping with venom to destroy that same journal—he half expected the hole to be there, with its front nearly torn in two. If it hadn't been for Fawkes, his Aunt and Uncle would've been attending his funeral instead of failing to give him a decent breakfast in the morning._

_Harry's throat constricted as if he was being strangled and a great weight had settled on his chest. This was too much. How could he get it back now? He couldn't very well waltz up and swipe it from the table in front of her, he may not be the most intelligent wizard but he certainly wasn't the thickest. He needed to create a distraction, but how? What would Peeves do in this situation? Besides annoying the hell out of students by filling a hallway with some ghastly smell that would last for a week or making them late by setting Pixes free, throwing a book off the shelf seemed like a secure idea. Everything after that happened in a kind of clarity, but if asked later Harry couldn't conjure a single image. _

_Elizabeth looked up in time to see the book seemingly levitate a few seconds before dropping onto the floor, she muttered an petulant 'what now' and went to replace the book, hoping no one had saw anything, though only a couple students glanced in her direction. She turned and realized too late the table was perilously close to the bookshelf, she cursed as she bumped into it and the journal slid off with a small thud. _

_"This is just not my day. How did that damn table get so far over?" She looked under the table and found it laying face open a few feet away. She huffed and got on her knees, the tips of her fingers only grazed the side as two voices whose owners never had much respect for being quiet came filtering to her ears. She stopped and hastily regained her seat, pulling a book off the many shelves for cover and kicked the journal further out of sight. _

_"Did you see Wormtail's face, Prongs? Priceless." _

_"He just knew that squib was flat on his heels!" _

_Wormtail? What kind of a name was that for someone you called your friend? Harry thought as he crawled under the table, the journal was inches away and Elizabeth was finally distracted when he felt something tug on his cloak. Trying to yank it free, he didn't realize it had caught on the end of a nail._

_"I did not! I only just escaped before Filch came bursting in through the kitchen door, half mad and ready to spit fire. Why do I always have to be the one to nick sweets from the kitchens? Moony is perfectly capable—"_

_"Moony is not here. If he were he would've thunked you over the head with 'one out of a thousand' of his books for being gullible enough to accept the challenge."_

_"And then say that its because you're such a lovable sap we can't help but thrust you into variable death defying stunts." Sirius went in for an exaggerated hug, but Peter nudged him roughly and laughed in spite of the teasing. They always took the mickey out of him after narrowly evading Flich's wrath or sneaking into a place that was forbidden, which is a lot of places in a castle this vast. His guess is because although he may not have been popular or smart as other three marauders, he is mainly chosen for the most risky little adventures they have due to boredom or plain curiosity in order to prove himself. It probably wouldn't seem all that healthy to other people, but to him it made sense. He considered them his best mates above anyone else, and they did so in return by allowing him a place in their group when they could've simply kicked him out flat on his arse. The feeling of finally belonging somewhere with friends who actually cared and could be counted on kept him sane._

_Harry stretched forward, careful of touching Elizabeth at any cost and put his hand on the journal, by doing so came the dawning realization he'd become even more stuck, thus making it difficult to turn around either way he pulled._

_James hushed them as they approached her. He couldn't fathom why, but whenever he came around Elizabeth Gaunt he was under the impression she knew something that could break apart everything they hoped to accomplish in life, as if she somehow sucked the air in around her and turned it sour, which is weird since he isn't the type to rely solely on emotions._

_"Hi, Sirius."_

_"And James. And Peter." Gryffindor's star Chaser retorted; he was beginning to dislike Sirius' snide little admirer and wouldn't mind throwing a few hexes her_ _way. _

_"Yes! Right. Sorry." _

_"Prongs, don't encourage." Sirius replied only half joking. _

_"I'm not. I'm just introducing myself to your new…friend." Sirius rolled his eyes; this is not what he had in mind when his best friend suggested they get his notebook back quickly before Quidditch practice. _

_"So where is it?"_

_She blinked. "Where's…what?" _

_"You know, my notes?" He shifted uncomfortably, hoping she wouldn't bring up his new and partly embarrassing hobby. Only those sensitive, poetry reading, book-ish types drew in class and he had a reputation to keep. _

_"Oh, well I…lost them." _

_"You lost them?"_

_"I'll return it, I promise. I just—"_

_"I told you we should have gone straight to practice, Padfoot!" "No you didn't, you said we'd be done by—" The ripping of fabric suddenly broke the arguing; Harry had gotten free, but ended up pulling his cloak along with him. The group stared in absolute shock at the dark haired boy who appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Harry comprehended the situation a second too late as he held the small black book of memoirs proudly in his hands at last. _

_"Who are you?" James is the first to speak, albeit cautiously. Sirius was at a complete loss and looked on confused. _

_"What were you doing under there?" Peter questioned, as if appalled it hadn't been asked yet._

_Ah, bloody BLOODY hell, this did not go as planned. Harry glanced around, taking note of the now empty Library and any possible escape route._

_He opened his mouth to clarify, possibly that he wasn't supposed to be there, but a light brush against his hand said otherwise._

_Because that was when everything went black._

**TBC**

**A/N:** I think the reason why I set the characters in the present day is because I've never witness this in any other story, yes I've read stories about a few years after Hogwarts, but I guess I wanted to do something completely different in this fandom, if it may come off as a stupid idea—at least I take full credit for it, lol. It amazed me how anyone hardly (if ever) mentions Peeves. So I threw him a bone. Also, you probably can't rip the Invisibility Cloak so easily, but no one ever really said so… I always wondered if Sirius had other hobbies besides Charms and well, dating…? Heh. Anyway, I've still gotta few ideas of where I want this to go, but haven't really decided yet, I'm thinking of finishing this in the next two or three chapters. Probably five—who knows? I go where the story takes me at this point. I like to think Hermione is less trusting in this, maybe a tiny bit less bossy and more of a know-it-all or straight up bookworm. I may even do a prequel about Elizabeth's background and her connection with Sirius. But, it's still in the air yet.


	4. IV - Shattered

A/N: Good news, Won Won finally makes an appearance! Bad news…well, you'll have to see now won't you? Also, Harry has been thrown into an alternative universe and is now in his original timeline, with a twist. You must think I'm on something at this point, huh? :3

Harry lies comfortably on his back with his arms folded neatly underneath his pillow; enjoying the first few moments after a blissful night sleep and the transition to early morning light peeking into his window (_window? I must be still dreaming_) before being awoken rudely by a shrill female voice and footsteps thundering above his head with enough force to make the cheap and tattered fleks of paint rain down on the thin bedspread, feeling the slight 'seqish' under his sock as he laid waste to yet another spider. He turned over, eyes slowly opening and still laced with sleep, he faced his door. He inhaled sharply when he caught the odd scent—drifting up from under the crack beneath his door like a vapor. It was the scent of blueberry pie. Could aunt Petunia be making dessert to impress Vernon's boss at dinner? That couldn't be it, the only dessert she ever makes from scratch is a _cake_, and even then it's loaded with frosting. But it smelled so delicious! As if he could just reach out and…

Wait a minute. He isn't at the Dursley's.

Well, he was, just not in the cupboard under the stairs. He rubbed the cold from his eyes and remembered the move into Dudley's second bedroom after that horrendous incident regarding his invitation to Hogwarts. It took some getting used to, especially after awkening from a dream of walking through peacful, endless, country fields that suddenly turned into a battleground. The sky had grown dark and a firece wind nearly blew him over. He can still hear those whispered words…

"**You can never hide…Your mother couldn't. What makes you think this will be any different?"**

He winced and felt his scar. This time he knew that dream was more of an omen then anything. A sign of things getting progressively worse if he fails to stop the one threat to end all of humanity.

_Voldemort._

Harry doesn't like to think on this for too long, it's also dangerous since he could easily let the Dark Lord inside his mind without meaning to. He bolts upright and realizes he is probably late to prepare breakfast, and his ever-demanding relatives will probably throw a fit if he didn't get into the kitchen soon. Rubbing the cold from his eyes, he hastily grabs a pair of 'two-sizes-too-big' jeans while buttoning up a wrinkled, and very broken in, shirt. It was when he closed his dresser drawer that he noticed how clean the surface of the furniture is_. _He runs a hand over it, thinking it appears almost new…

A timid knock sounds on his door just he sees this room is far too large and well decorated. He tries to recall what happened between last night and waking up this morning and can't. He instead feels the dull throb of a headache forming, as if his mind is blocking out some repressed memory.

"Honey? Are you up? Your breakfast is getting cold!"

"Are you ready for your first day back, dear?" She says, eyeing his clothes as if they were made of clay. "Harry, aren't you going to change? Why are you wearing those old things?"

"First…first day?" He replied numbly. He couldn't beilieve what he was seeing.

"Yes, silly. Did you get enough rest?" She ruffled his hair affectionately before returning to her seat. She suddnely looks pensive as her eyes darken, possibly re-living a year that he never did. "You'll certainly need it. I'm so happy you made it through your fourth year. Well now, enough talk. Come and eat your breakfast before you're late!"

A bead of cold sweat trailed its way down his back, making him shiver slightly. He felt like he had been riding on a train, and after seeing nothing but fog for so long, his destination was finally in plain view_._ His feet were glued to the floor as he helplessly gaped at the man and woman seated at the table. He could feel his nails digging into his sweaty plams; his heart was racing while he put one hand on the counter to brace against a heavy wave of dizziness.

_Fourth Year? How could I be in Third one minute and not remember a thing about my Fourth the next?!_

_This is impossible! I should have died, or disappeared entirely!_

He swallowed thickly, apparently dust had gathered in his mouth from the unmeasurable amount of time it was open.

"Harry? Are you all right? You look a bit pale, dear."

_Ha! Pale! Looking pale is the least of my problems right now._

"Sure he's fine, sweetheart." The man with full moon glasses, and messy black hair that mirrored Harry's, turned a page of the newspaper he was reading, chuckling to himself. Little did he know that Harry was on the verge of either laughing hyserically or crying, and the prospect of both happening is high. "First day jitters got you, do they?"

The woman with eyes he remembered as strongly as he remembered to breathe and a promise he still heard in his dreams gestured to his plate, his now cold plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. "Is it the food? We can always buy something else for breakfast I suppose—"

He let out a breath he didn't know he held in and promptly sat down. Clearly Fate, Merlin, Dumbledore or whatever controlled the events in the broken pieces of his life had resolved to give him a second chance. But could he manage to pretend nothing happened? Living with the Dursleys? Facing Voldemort twice and walking away with a few scars, scars that were more of the emotional variety? Defeating a hundred Dementors out of sheer dumb luck? If someone had told him that James and Lily Potter would be waiting for him calmly at the dining table, he would have gladly punched them.

"Nothing, mum. It's fine, perfect really." He said this with uncertainty, but beemed at his mother anyway to ease her evident worry.

James smiled proudly at his son. He hoped Harry would forget about the nightmares and have a normal year—or what is considered normal for his family. "There, you see? Resliant. Just like his old man!"

Lily only raised her eyebrows at her son in a last look of concern and went back to her meal.

Lily was carrying Hedwig's cage, while James opted for pulling the heavy trunk out to the car behind her, all the while Harry stopped to admire his pleasant surroundings. It wasn't often he got to see such a warm and welcoming home. If not for the Muggle magazines that Hermione had sometimes showed him or the finger paintings he saw the other children draw in primary school, he wouldn't a clue as to what a real home with a family that cared was supposed to be like.

Then he saw the picture placed on a rather immaculate end table. It had an ordinary stainless steel frame; he saw a knick in one corner that gave him the impression of having been dropped once upon a time. The picture showed four handsome young men in tuxes; out of the four only two were smiling brightly, the others looked a bit uncertain at their picture being taken. He turned it over, hoping for a date, but notice that something was hidden behind picture. He pulled out a white card with writing scribbled on the back.

"_Don't you realize that the history of the universe has brought us here to this second?" _

_Padfoot, Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail._

_Date –_

"So much for that." He mumbled, running a thumb over the faded date. Replacing the picture and wishing he had studied the Marauder's Map longer.

If Sirius is Padfoot, my father is Prongs, and Remus is Moony, than Wormtail must be…

It was Peter Pettigrew. The same Peter Pettigrew that Sirius had mentioned snitched on his parents.

He glanced at the picture again, noticing a different detail this time that was subtle unless one was looking hard enough. Call it intuition or a figment of his imagination, but behind of the friendly brown eyes of James, the intelligent hazel of Remus, the detertirmined grey of Sirius, and the sensitive green of Peter, there seemed to hobor much pain later on for each of them. He turned suddenly when a door shut behind him.

"Remember your second year, son?" James mentioned quietly. He's seen how tense Harry had been this morning and decided he could use a bit of cheering up. "When Ron saved you and Ginny by telling Dumbledore you where trapped in the Chamber of Secrets? I'll always remember the look on your mother's face you came home that summer, it was a dispirited look, almost like a part of her is only half living – doing everyday things automatically without any real motive behind it. I don't think she will ever fully lose it. She hasn't been the same since we lost…" He trailed off, knowing he was rambling. In truth, he missed his three best friends and how they would often share their deepest secrets. Secrets none of them ever told their family or girlfriends, they knew exactly who they were and what they wanted to be. Having all of that stolen from them was killing James inside. It was neither fair nor indispensable. Life could be cruel to the young and just when they believe they've finally found a place in the world. When he saw his son looking at the picture, it reminded him of how often he did the same now.

Harry answered slowly that he did, it isn't the way he remembered it, but a lot happened that year and it was hard not to agree that he didn't think they would make it out alive.

"Back when you three were friends, I suppose. I shouldn't be going on about a such a morbid things, your mother wouldn't be pleased. Being your first day and all," He put a hand on Harry's shoulder, staring at the photo with a rather sad look. He was about to say that they would always be friends when his father spoke again. "Well, I'm sure you'll do just fine. Don't let the unfortunate business with Diggory and…just don't let it upset you, we'll show the Ministry—"

A car horn sounded them to hurry as James went on.

"Do you still have your Invisabilty Cloak?"

"Yes. How could I not?" Harry grinned; he hoped to pass it on to his own children one day. Which was looking bleaker as time by. How did he survive being seen? Shouldn't the affacts from the Time-Turner have killed him? How was he going to get back to his original line now?

"Good. Because in times like these you need a family heirloom to keep close, and maybe stir up a little mischief in the process, eh?" He winked and followed Harry out the door.

"There you are! The train will be arriving any mintue!"

"Right. Let's get the last of your stuff before your mother throws something." His eyes crinkled in amusement. Wondered briefly if he would ever inherit those 'laugh' lines. "You know how she can be when we're late."

Harry watched his father load his stuff into the backseat and turn to give his mother a quick peck on the cheek before getting in behind the wheel, remembering what his mother said about doing more things the Muggle way and suggested they rent a car just to see how it felt. James was initally against it at first, but warmed up to the idea after Harry told him how fast the speed of a Muggle car, the right one, could reach.

Harry was left wondering just who this Diggory fellow is and how the Ministry fit into all this.

"No, I wouldn't know."

Because what other choice did he have but go along with this new life and hope no one knew any different? They would never believe him, especially when it came to their deaths. In the back of his mind, something kept nagging at him; something gravely important, and for the life of him he couldn't remember what it is.

The train arrived and Harry was rushed onto platform 9/3 qaurters, not before he was bombarded with several hugs from his mother of course. He wished he could stay in her arms forever, telling her everything that mattered and everything that didn't.

"Where are Hermione and Ron?" He asked, noticing his two best friends absent.

"What do you mean? Don't you remember, Harry?" Lily sounded perplexed, throwing a worried glance at James and thinking maybe Diggory's death had affected him more than they thought. "All right, I'm sure your friends are already waiting for you on the train, now go and get your seat!"

_Remember. I'm supposed to remember... What is it that I've forgotten?_

Harry left his parents, having a few minutes before the train departed, and soon enough found the tall frrame of Hagrid.

"Hagrid?"

"Oh, 'ello Harry! Did you make it here all right? Blamey, don't think I ever seen you this late."

"We made it here fine, thanks. Um, Hagrid? Do you know what happened to Hermione?"

A few students walking by him snickered, some students he recognized in Hufflepuff muttered 'nutter' under their breath.

_What's their problem, then? _

"Didn't yer hear, Harry? Miss Granger is no longer attendin' Hogwarts." He lowered his voice. "Not sure what Ron thinks, though. Not after you two…well. Best not ter bring up that again, eh?"

"Why? Why is she not at Hogwarts? Is something wrong?"

"Not at liberty 'ter say, Harry. Maybe you ought to—"

Harry didn't hear the rest as the train let out a whistle for the last time and he ran to catch up with the last minute students, his thoughts heavily preoccupied on why she could possibly be taken out of Hogwarts. During the departure he wondered just what he was getting himself into.

On the train however, it was a very different story.

Harry found his usual seat; only his usual friends weren't seated in it. Instead, Ron Weasley sat alone actually reading, he closed the book abruptly the second Harry sat down and glanced at his former friend smugly.

"Always got to play it up for them, don't you?"

"What?"

"The 'Chosen One' never does wrong, all the while we're the one's left do the dirty work!" He sneered, a vicious gleam in his eyes.

"Ron, what do you mean? Do you know where Hermione is?" Harry asked with some catiution. He noticed Ron's hair was cut shorter than he'd ever seen it, there were also what appeared to be a bruise healing on the left side of his temple.

"She's exactly where she belongs, for now."

Harry waited for Ron to elaborate further, only when he didn't, Harry settle for looking out the window as Ron sat back and covered his book with his Gryffindor scarf, what the contants of that book contained he obviously did not want the other boy to find out. Harry was determined to find out what happened to Hermione if it killed him and one thing is for sure, Voldemort was still out there, very much alive and not planning to rest any time soon, nothing had changed in that aspact.

**A/n:** Ron, I'm sorry. I am a terrible author for doing such a loathsome thing. *slinks back to corner to return to her beloved oneshots, with a ridiculously wide smirk.*

Btw, Harry did change his clothes; he didn't realize they were his PJ's…x3

I really liked the idea of James basically plannning to pass down the cloak to Harry, since according to Beedle's Tales it was passed down from family member to family member, even though this isn't exactly mentioned in canon, one can assume from the Sorcerer's Stone…


	5. Author's Note, 1-19-16

Sorry to put this smack in the middle of the story, but I thought I should let you guys know that this is going to be on hold for about a month or so, I just have a lot going on at the moment and other projects to finish. I also wanted to say that I'm NOT abandoning this fic - I've got a few new directions for this to go in and deciding which one is taking a little longer than expected.

As you know, we lost the versatile and prodigious actor Alan Rickman last week, it has been a appurtenance (always loved that word) to witness a good deal of his career which spanned almost 40 years. I'm not going to lie and say it hasn't effected the writing of this story, I personally find comfort in watching Harry Potter on my worst days, I don't know why but I love losing myself in the 'wizarding world' for a couple of hours - I doubt it will never ceases to lighten my mood regardless of how old I am. But to me, his best role will always be Professor Severus Snape. After all this time... He will never be forgotten.


	6. VI - World Rising, Shambles Of The Old

"Get back here, you filthy Mudblood! Bet you wouldn't say that to my father."

Harry heard the usual voicings of Draco Malfoy distressing another set of Second Years. He sighed, and took different way to Charms class in hopes of avoiding a conforntation with the spiteful blond.

What Harry failed to notice however, was that Draco had indeed seen the shorter boy's hasty retreat and wondered briefly if he was being eluded. The Dark Lord would soon want to know if they had recived any information on that traitor Granger and the rest of her family.

Harry thought Malfoy had out-grown such things by now, but he seemed to be more menacing than ever – as if any possible shred of humanity that he may have was slowly evaporating and evolving into a hardened shell. He pondered asking Neville about Hermione, but decided he should finish his work first, who knows what will happen if he ruined a test in this timeline?

"Hello, Harry." Greeted a wispy feminine voice, snapping Harry from his troubled thoughts and he doubted he would have even heard her if he hadn't seen her waif frame standing there out of his peripheral vision. He was surprised she willingly spoke to him, nearly everyone had snuck him icy stares during class or went out of their way not to sit by him in the Great Hall, except Fred and George who appeared the most uneasy he ever saw them, they stuck to a nod and a quick 'morning'. They weren't exactly unfriendly as they were distant, but he never felt more isolated at Hogwarts in his life. While he may have been too old for it, and being hated was nothing new if the Dursley's were anything to go by, he actually had a strong urge to crawl into the deepest hole for an eternity.

_I can't think about that now, where would being a coward get me?_

"Oh, hello Luna," It took a moment for him to realize that Luna probably didn't have many students as friends here, nor is she his friend, and that perhaps she doesn't care to know the reason why everyone disliked him. Luna's eyes were downcast, and he followed her gaze to her untied shoe, not knowing how he missed it at first.

"Are you feeling well?"

"Fine, thanks. Um, could I ask you something?" He nodded and motioned for her to sit down.

"Do you know Ronald? Ronald Weasley?"

_Not anymore, apparently._

"Yeah, not on a friendly basis…any longer."

"He seems to like me, although I'm not sure if this is good."

Harry raised his eyebrows, slightly blushing at her obtrusive way of speaking. He really is rubbish at this sort of thing, what could she possibly learn from him?

"Oh. Perhaps it's for the best then. Well, uh, why did you come to me?"

Luna cocked her head at him, eyes widening slightly, as if determining wether telling him is the right thing to do.

"Because he often speaks of you. Sometimes we'll study together and he will bring up an incident during Second Year or a prank you both shared with Fred and George… I can tell he misses you."

Harry wished incredbly hard that he knew what happened between he and Ron; the repressed memory was so unfair that it was almost painful. As much as he hated to, now would be a perfect time to find out if she knew anything that could help him.

"Hm. What did he say about me?"

"I suppose he wouldn't mind," Luna pursed her lips, searching the common room for Ron no doubt and finding him playing Exploding Snap with Seamus. She leaned a bit closer and he figured personal space for him must be a rare sight these days.

"He thinks you're a Death Eater, Harry."

He stared at her in total disbelief, digusted at the very thought of it.

_Me! A Death Eater!? What kind of shoddy alternate timeline is this? How many others thought the same? It would surely explain a few of the dirty looks I've gotten from my classmates in the halls._

"But Luna - "

"Oh, I believe you aren't affliated with those wizards. I also believe that Voldemort is back. Dad and I both, really." Luna finished excitedly, though she could see the dark haired boy was miles away.

Harry's gaze drifted to the fire crackling, the crease in his forehead deepening with each new revelation about himself in this universe, and felt not for the first time something nag at the back of his mind.

_Some type of…book? Bloody hell, my head feels like a road map. What else is going to go wrong?_

_**Harry…You will never uncover the truth.**_

He closed his eyes, head lowered and trying desperately to keep out the one whose intonation seemed to break through his careful barrier, the one he never wanted to give the satisfaction of surrendering to. He opened them when he finally realized Luna was calling his name, concerned etched into her wafe features.

"Is everything all right?" A new voice behind him spoke. The distinctively shy, muted, baritone of Neville Longbottom.

"Fine, actually." Harry took a moment to breathe, feeling tired and a little embarrassed in front of his former friends. He turned to gather his books, planning to leave and get some fresh air; he could do with a great bit of fresh air, and stopped when he realized Neville and Luna were still looking after him expectantly.

"Er, Luna we'll finish this later?" Harry asked hesitantly, knowning she wouldn't care but feeling the need to ask anyway. He didn't like to leave conversations unfinished, especially if they were important to others.

"Of course, Harry. Don't let those Nargles interfere with your thought process."

"Right. Good." Harry nodded and getured for Neville to follow him out into the hall.

_What in the name of Merlin's shoelaces is a Nargle?_

"What is it, Harry?"

They were safely hidden from eavesdropping Gryffindors in a small aclove located in a corridor leading to the main floor, Harry remembered finding it in his Third year by accident. That's what he got for following Fred and George's advice he guessed. The aclove lead to a standard size chamber when he used a certain Charm - oh he was proud of figuring out that one - that held a desk and nothing else of value except a few unopened potion bottles filled with blue liquid, unused parchment, and one overturned cauldron nestled in the corner surrounded by cobwebs. He assumed it must have once been used as a classroom, but he decided to use it as his own thinking place when he needed privacy and couldn't escape to the grounds for whatever reason – or his friends for that matter. Sometimes he grew tired of the worried glances they shot his way and the overbearing opinions Hermione gave, or what Ron lacked during their 'guy' talks, even if he knew they meant well and he loved them all the more for it. It was a difficult to discribe to anyone in person, so he usually resorted to keeping it to himself. He always found his manner of thinking improved considerably while in seclusion.

"Neville, do you trust me?"

The taller boy's eyes widened and the last thing Harry wanted was to scare him off.

"Yes, I suppose. What - what's this about, then?"

"Good, now where is Hermione? No one will tell me anything and I'm getting desperate. None of this is making sense!"

Neville visably relaxed. He chuckled a little and Harry wondered what he could possibly find funny at this point.

"I thought you were going to recruit me or something," Neville started to smile, meaning it as a joke, but promptly stopped when he saw how serious the shorter boy appeared. Why did he always attempt jokes at the worse times? "I-I'm sorry, Harry. I know less than you. I was going to ask but…"

"You were too afraid. Yes, I understand. I understand well that rumors have spread that I'm a Death Eater." Harry knew he sounded harsh, but at the moment he couldn't be bothered to care. "Who told everyone that I'm a Death Eater?"

"But – it was Ron," Neville hurriedly explained, leaving Harry to think that Ron may have threatened him to some degree. "Said Hermione told him something that would make everyone regret standing by you, he also mentioned what happened to Diggory last year. Harry, they must think you had a hand in doing it."

"Are you saying someone killed him?"

"Don't you know? You were there for the entire Tournament! I thought I'd killed you -"

Tournament. That sounded familiar and something clicked, Harry recalled glimpses of a Dragon nearly knocking him off his broom to send him to his death and a maze, a maze they all could've died in…but who were 'they'?

"Neville, I haven't exactly recovered since then, and I believe a part of me has blocked out the incident," Harry was considering that maybe he is a Death Eater; the lying would surely make sense. "Could you tell me what happened?"

Neville faltered, Harry could see he was having a hard time accepting this 'amnesia' story and couldn't blame him.

"I know I have no right to ask you these questions and expect an answer, but trust me, please, I am not a Death Eater. You have to believe me, Neville. You and Luna are the only ones who will even speak to me!"

"All right, this information can't be used against me, can it?" When Harry responded with a firm 'no' Neville continued.

"Cedric Diggory is dead. He died just when the both of you reached the Triwizard cup - in Little Hangleton graveyard, according to you. Then you…you said Voldemort has returned – I was one of few who had no reason to doubt you because it's happened before, though the Ministry refuses to take your word. Fleur and Viktor survived obviously, but Diggory was killed instantly by...a curse. I overheard Ron and Hermione talking on the train home and somehow Hermione got it into her head that you were a Death Eater, she made Ron swear not to tell. Which he broke of course, then Hermione was suddenly absent and no one has seen her since. I tried to reason with him over the summer, you see, but he never liked me much anyway and things spiraled from there. I'm sorry Harry, that's all I've got."

"Thank you, Neville, really. You have no idea how much you helped me." Harry smiled, genuinely smiled, for the first time since coming back to Hogwarts and hugged his former friend who looked taken aback by Harry's abrupt show of gratitude. At least nothing had changed there. Though, one thing left him questioning Neville's explanation.

"But, how did I not know they were talking about me? When we always sit in the same compartment?"

"Oh, I think Hermione said something about using a sleep spell on a sweet."

And she probably would, he thought with some sadness. One way or the other, Hermione has a good reason for proving a point and this time, he was determind to find out why.

He said his goodbye and headed back for the common room, hoping Luna was still there. He had to tell her his plan.

On his way back things went far from planned, and it would seem Malfoy was waiting for him to change his mind.

"Just where are _you_ going?" Malfoy asked angrily. He held Harry against the wall by his robes, the cold stone digging painfully into his back. "I think you and I need to have a talk."

"Malfoy, if you don't give me my wand back I'll –"

"You'll what? Go running to your precious Headmaster?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy."

"I think you know exactly what I'm on about." He sneered, and all Harry wanted to do was wipe that look off of his face if he knew Malfoy wouldn't go running to one of the Professors, preferrably Snape. "Any news on Granger? The Dark Lord is growing restless, Potter."

_Am I… a Death Eater? What about my parents? Are they aware of what the whole school thinks? Why doesn't Dumbledore help? Where has he been, anyway?_

He figured it would be best if he played into Malfoy's demands, especially if he didn't know any more than Harry…

"No, not yet. You?"

"Of course not! Don't you think I would have said? Besides, my father is trying for the prophcey soon; he says he'll do anything to get it." Malfoy finally gave him space, looking at both ends of the corridor before turning back to Harry and lowering his voice. "Well, at least the Ministry is on our side, if only thanks to a certain curse, shouldn't have much of a problem there. They don't beileve you at all, nice one Potter. I thought you were serious when you told the Ministry." Malfoy mocked scornfully, though something in his eyes told Harry that he had a good reason fear the consequences of his actions.

Harry swallowed; adjusting his robes, he affixed his gaze on Malfoy. "I imagined it would add credibility to the situation."

The other boy snickered. "Suppose I should've given you more _credibilty_, no doubt it would have gone straight to your head."

Harry could tell that Malfoy still mistrusted him, but before he could query the circumstances any further, Malfoy stalked off towards the Dungeons. He saw Ron passing by and overheard Malfoy telling him in a derogatory tone that he should mind his place and spreading rumors isn't one of them. Ron simply called him a disgrace to the school and asked Harry what he found so bloody interesting. Harry looked on sadly for a moment, wondering if they could ever be regarded as friends again, and walked in the oppisite direction until he reached the second floor landing, which was empty save for a few. He glanced around to sure no one saw him and lifted up his sleeve, tracing the Dark Mark with his fingertips. He never should have asked. Things always became progressively worse when you are Harry Potter. The question now is… could he keep his cover for another year? If there was ever a time to go mad, it was then.

Severus Snape listened as the two boys talked, unseen at the end of the first floor corridor where no students were currently milling about; he wondered just how far Draco was willing to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord. If anyone came upon him now they would merely think he had received some unpleasant news, when in reality he dread was eating away his very core. The prophcey has changed, just as Dumbledore warned it could.

_TBC_

**A/N:** This is a big opportunity for Harry to turn around the past. But will he be able to, or is someone on to his plans? And what about the Journal? Guess you'll have to read on…

On a side note, I think I'll edit the first three chapters after the series has ended. That way I can focus entirely on everything with a fine toothed comb and… yeah.

Thanks for reading, commenting, following, and favoring you guys, really – from the first to last reader you've all helped tremendously and kept me motivated. I apologize for starting this story and failing to update regularly and the plot changing considerably. A lot has been going on and much of it not for the better, as I could not set a date every week and disappoint you guys more by not getting the chance to post another chapter. Thus is the reason I count on nothing anymore – not saying this for sympathy, it's just the way things are. So far this series has been kind of a pain to write, and it'll be longer than expected, but I've still enjoyed it even though I was clearly a novice when it first started – not that I'm an expert now, I can just piece together a plot better than before. To give you all a heads up, I've decided to at least have two chapters written and publish them instead of one at a time, as its faster, I would think.


	7. VII - Griffindor

"It think this could work. But…how are we going to convince Ron?"

Neville Longbottom asked suspiciously. Neville, along with Harry and Luna, were seated in the now empty common room once more, classes for that evening were finally over and Harry couldn't wait to discuss what he learned. It was nearly Christmas break; he was still reeling from his kiss with Cho and the nagging fact that he was an ally to Voldemort.

"That's where you come in. Once we have the trust of Draco at school, we can tell Ron what we're planning and what goes on in the process."

"Yes, but won't Draco be suspious if Neville suddenly appears at the meetings?"

"Good question, Luna. I'll just tell him my family finally convinced Neville and his grandmother to join – by threats or otherwise."

Neville frowned, closing the book on various poisonous plants throughout the world and studied the fire in front of him. Could he actually trust Harry? After what he heard the other students whispering about in the halls? Would his plan really that simple? A lot of the students at Hogwarts made fun of him at some point or other, who is to say Harry would be any different? He may not be the quickest wizard around Hogwarts, or the brightest, but he isn't about to jump head first into a bubbling couldren. It was a very risky thing spying, especially when covering as a Death Eater. Thinking of the 'brightest' made him worry about Hermione. What if she was being forced against her will, doing unspeakable things and torturing other wizards? What if she was being held captive somewhere? Starving and barely alive? Or worse, what if she was… dead? He never knew anyone his age that had died, let alone be so corrupted that they turn against everyone who ever cared for them. Except for his parents. He hadn't known anyone related to him to be subject to that amount of cruelty and it made him cringe, even now, to think about what it felt to slowly, painfully, be driven into complete madness.

"Neville? Are you all right?"

"Huh? Oh. Yes, just thinking," He looked up to see Harry staring at him with concern, forgetting they were discussing what to do if he joined the Death Eaters, which was a serious decision in itself. What would poor Augusta make of this? "Sorry, did you say something?"

"You see, I think it best if we start practising some defensive spells now rather than later, possibly even form a group of our own. We're hardly learning anything from Umbridge."

"Well, I don't normally say this, but it would be wonderful if a horde of Blibbering Humdingers wisked her off into the Forbidden Forest, never to be seen again, and enabling our days to be lightened once more."

Luna said this with all seriousness, but both boys had turned to her in awe before outright laughing. She offered a small smile of her own in return, happy that her little joke did not go over their heads.

"I suppose so, but do you really think we can pull it off? Someone is bound to know we're missing!" Neville was the only person Harry knew that could switch from cheerful to worrisome in one minute flat. "In fact, what if Umbridge comes after me next? You see the way she'll sometimes look at me in class, like I'm an utter nobody."

"But you aren't!" Luna and Harry said in unison, surprising them both. This time Harry spoke first, he recalled their first year when Neville managed to stand up to all three of his friends, and in the end was one of the reasons they scored enough points to win the house cup. That was one of the proudest moments he ever considered achiving, aside from winning his first game of Qudditch. "Neville, you can do anything you set your mind to – you must believe that. Do you think it's easy for me to get on my broom and go against one of the best teams at Hogwarts? I still get butterflies thinking about if I mess up once and how disappointed everyone would be."

"But you're Harry Potter, you don't mess up!"

"What's that got to do with anything? I'm not made of steel, Neville!" Harry sighed. He was getting right tired of people expecting him to be this invincible mechanism bent on destroying Voldemort. He didn't ask for any of it – he literally woke one day and automatically thrown into a whirlwind of secrets and trying to squeeze in some amount of normalcy through it all, he isn't even sure what being the Choosen One implies anymore.

"I'm just…Neville Longbottom. Clumsy and boring, what could I possibly have to offer?"

"Oh, you'd be quite surprised," Luna pitched in earnestly, now trying to convince him as well. "You know more about Herbology than anyone at Hogwarts. Who helped Susan Bones study when she was close to failing? Or Hannah Abbott when she accidently pricked her finger on that venomous plant, with you rushing her to the Hospital wing in time?"

"I did what I thought was necessary." He mumbled something else and blushed. Most of the Gryffindor students knew he harbored a crush on Hannah and probably would never act on it, most except Hannah that is.

"Exactly why you should be apart of it."

"Say I were to join, what would we call it anyway?"

They all fell silent, each in heavy thought to pick a specific name that defines the group as a whole, until Luna spoke.

"I've got it…The Dynamic Lions?"

Harry pursed his lips, while Neville raised a brow.

"Bit Little League, don't you think?"

"_'Little'_ what?" Luna asked; Neville looked throughly confused as well.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, forgetting that neither of them had spent time around Muggles.

"Ah, never mind. Let's think of something else, how about Gryffin The Great?"

Luna and Nevile both shook their heads in disproval, agreeing that it sounded a rather presumptuous, especially towards the other houses.

"Well, I've come up with one, but…I don't know."

"Let's have it, then. Can't be any worse than mine."

"Right," Neville took in a sharp breath, held it, closed his eyes, and let out his answer in a rush of words. "Dumbledore's Army."

All were quiet as they mulled over the new name – noted it might be just what they needed to convince others to join, Luna was the first to speak.

"I like it, really. I think the others will accept it."

"I second that. See? You're fitting in already."

Neville smiled nervously. How did he get himself into these positions?

* * *

"So, how was the kiss?" Neville asked out of the blue as they prepared for another round of lessons in the Room of Requirment.

"Anyone ever call you direct?"

"Well, my grandmother thinks I could do with a bit of tact now and then."

_"Wet."_ Harry tried not to grimace at the thought of his first kiss – one he wasn't prepared for. "And just…different. Are kisses always this difficult to explain?"

Neville shrugged, the closest he'd come to being kissed was that time he and Hermione studied together. They practically had the Library to themselves, but apparently Krum was more important, and to no surprise, he was left watching her leave.

"Wouldn't know." Harry doesn't need to know everything does he? He thought it better to change the subject before that dreadful mess comes to light. "Are you still staying with Sirius this year?"

"Yes. Perfect opportunity let Sirius know what we're up against."

"Let's hope no one else finds out and ruins it for us."

Harry could tell Neville was still worried about what they planned to do, he has a right to be, but this could be the only sure way of knowing Voldemort's weaknesses and finding out where Hermione might have gone. He just wished they weren't risking their lives to do so. On top of it all, Dumbledore was hardly speaking to him – had he done something to break their trust and couldn't remember it?

"I'm sure this will work in the end, just keep your spirits up, Neville."

"Easier said than done." The taller boy grumbled, he resumed his practise on prefecting his Patronus. While he was quick to accept the challenges set before him, he was a bit slow to grasp the concept of the spell. Luckily his skills were improving with each session.

Harry hoped it would work more than anyone, he only wished he had someone to tell him these things, most of the time isn't sure of anything.

* * *

"It would seem the prophcey is changing. For the better, I do not dare say. I'm not even sure it will continue in such a manner as before."

The potion's master looked about the study with great forlorn, not wanting to come here in the least, but knowing that he needed to, and choosing to stand when he realized a part of him could make an easy escape for the door. While in the same instance he craved to eradicate that side of him for being childish.

Severus Snape did not run; he persevered.

_Only if it does not regard Lily. Anything but her._

**_My Lily._**

_Will I ever stop berating myself? Was there really nothing that I could have done?_

"Do you ever think… that what you have asked…what you have anticipated, is too much? That possibly the boy will break and all hope will be lost? That everything we risked life and limb to protect, everything you sacrificed, will merely be for nothing?"

Dumbledore smiled wistfully. Though whether it was a product of once loved memories flooding back to him, or the fact that every person he came to know would be effected by the eleven-year-old boy he still saw in a miniscule cupboard under the stairs, he didn't know. Perhaps it was best to think of it as purely habit, for he found himself smiling in the strangest of times.

"I fear you are wishful thinking. You must be really feeling nostalgic this evening, my friend."

Severus made an exasperated noise; how could he engage in wit at a time like this?

Dumbledore finally faced him; hands clasped behind him in a contemplative gesture. The curse layed upon his hand seemed to grow by the day to Severus; in spite of knowing it remained the same for now.

"Do you think Lily would have stood for this?"

"Do not –"

"I need to know, Severus. Without you, it will be lost. Everything. Understand I would not wish any of this on my worst of enemies, surely you do not take me for a stubborn old fool."

Severus scoffed. What was he going to do? He wondered if it a made a differnce had someone else met Lily, or if James had found a love interest elsewhere and left him to his misery.

Perhaps Dumbledore was right. Though he seldom isn't it seemed.

"You are a stubborn old fool." Severus looked away, missing the Headmaster's blithe form of a smirk. "Do you still think Trelawny is correct?"

"It is not Trelawny I give full credit to, the prophecy is the real proof as she was only its vessel."

"In any case, I believe the Dark Lord has found another way to sway Potter, I hear now that Longbottom is joining the ranks with Death Eaters."

"Oh?" He decided to arch an eyebrow for good measure. Severus may be a master at Potions, but local gossip was not his strong point. "Do you doubt his intentions?"

"Are you implying he has any? I hear it was through Potter's family that he -"

Severus stopped when he noted Dumbledore's slightly amused smirk.

"I suppose Potter isn't so unmindful, is he?"

Severus sniffed conceitedly.

"An obvious trait he owes to Lily."

* * *

_TBC…_

**_A/N:_** I seem to have a reacurring theme in my fics that hint at Neville crushing on Hermoine…I don't know. Moving on, hopefully over the next few weeks updates will be a little more current. Thanks for reading and faving!


	8. VIII - Numbered

_**A/N: **_Bit of language ahead, sorry Hermione.

* * *

_Their days are numbered…to think that it would bypass me…they are immensely thick. Instead opting to rely on the sheer act of gallantry alone. How it sickens me. They are unworthy to even breathe the air that surrounds my presence. No one will EVER deceive me and fail to face consequences; they are purely a WEAKNESS left to rot in the wizarding world. Those miserable Potters will weep the day they crossed Lord Voldemort! They should be kissing the very ground I walk on for letting them live this long, they all should! Pathetic excuses for a loyal following are they._

Voldemort took his seat at the head of the table. As was expected. He folded his hands in front of him, closing his eyes briefly, and shutting out the tension that blanketed the room because of his attendance alone.

_If I imagine them all dead, perhaps then I will finally hear myself think._

"Luicus?"

The blond wizard's head snapped to attention as the Dark Lord stood, pacing rather anixously behind his chair as if expecting Luicus to instinctively identify what he wanted.

"Yes, my Lord?" His voice taking a tone of such wariness that no human could possibly understand him, apart from Voldemort, who gave the impression that he heard everything even when he isn't present. Luicus' hands were shaking badly; he repeatedly pinched the inside of his palm to calm his unease. He felt a small trickle of blood run down his hand, which did nothing except add to his nerves.

"You have a most important task ahead of you," Voldemort stated as if it were the simplest request in the world, placing an unnaturally pale hand on the wizard's shoulder. Luicus knew better than to think anything simple when it involved a favor of him. "Crouch forever was the weedy sort. Reckless you see. Though, I have much faith in you, Luicus. You will succeed where he could not. That I am sure of."

Luicus swallowed thickly, the preposterous amount of dry air in the manor was getting to him. That must be it. Otherwise, it could not be due to the crushing sense of dread that threatened to surmount him in that moment, a feeling that he would lose everything he risked to achieve a position in the Dark Lord's reign.

* * *

Harry wished more than anything that he could spend Christmas with Sirius. Out of all the people who can make 12 Grimmauld Place appear the coziest home in all of England, Sirius Black was indeed one of them – Molly Weasley being the exception; Harry believed she could create a palace out of the dreariest cave. Though, he was having a hard enough time keeping his anger under control with Voldemort. Sitting. Right. There. Neville seemed just as nervous, though he was making a great effort to appear aloof, Harry was quite proud of his friend's newfound bravery. In truth, he thought Neville was going to change his mind in the last second, let alone face Voldemort like this.

"As you are aware, our last recruit has been in search of the Granger family. Mark my words that once they are found, there will be dire consquences for their betrayal."

_"Kill them ALL!"_ Bellatrix yelled abruptly. If she was hoping to get a response from Voldemort, he instead ignored her shrill outburst as usual. Harry faught against clenching his fists, he was thankful that his mother sat beside him, for she glanced at him every minute or so reassuringly.

"Wormtail!" Voldemort's unexpected call for his faithful servant broke the silence; Harry had never witnessed Draco this quiet, nor this tense.

"S-sir?" Came a timid reply from Wormtail. His meager, scruffy, apparence did nothing to help matters as he bustled into the room.

"Send in Elizabeth. I wish to hear about her travels."

"Yes, sir." He bowed meakly and scuttled off. Minutes later Harry heard a faint 'let go of me!' from somewhere in the dark corridor.

"That insolent excuse for a servant should learn some manners." Said a bitter voice as the shadow of a person rounded the corner into Harry's line of view, he got the destinct feeling of Deja vu.

"Ah. Good to see you are doing well, my dear."

Elizabeth snorted, walking into the room briskly and taking a seat directly opposite Draco. That moment is when it dawned on Harry that this was no ordinary Death Eater. She did not bow, she did not act timid, she did not speak to anyone, but perhaps the most important tidbit about her rushed entry is that she did not so much as glance in Voldemort's direction. She just sat there, if not a little restless, as though she is the one to be waited on. Bellatrix seemed to emit pure hate at the arrival of the young woman - which Elizabeth paid no attention to, and resumed picking at her nails in heavy concentration.

Seconds ticked by as everyone remained fixated on the blonde who didn't appear to have a care in the world. Voldemort cleared his throat rather loudly; making it obvious that he was struggling not to show his irritation.

"What?" She asked curtly. Neville thought she had a death wish.

"Your news?" Voldemort lifted his lips in what Harry supposed was a smirk, but to him it looked more like a snake spotting his next meal.

Elizabeth perked up a bit at this, but lowered her gaze sheepishly as she went into detail about her time spent observing the Grangers as one of their trusted confidents. Harry noted the small jagged scar on her right hand.

"Yet, the Journal has been destroyed. How did this come about? It is unlikely you would fail with such ease."

_The Journal…I was...looking for it, wasn't I?_

Harry felt his scar. It was the first time since his life in this world that it made any indication of being out of the ordinary.

"I did not fail so easily!" She responded vehemently, eyes showing vivid annoyance. "I underestimated that Granger bitch, she understood far more than I realized. Perhaps it was not wise to -"

With a flick of Voldemort's hand a silent Conjunctivitus Curse was directed at Elizabeth, causing her to instantly clutch at her eyes and curse his name.

"Do not FORGET who has made you what you are!" Voldemort sneered, standing by her side in seconds. "You have gotten away with much in the past, I may not be so merciful again."

Elizabeth laughed mockingly, despite the immense pain she should have felt. She experienced little of it after years of being subjected to Voldemort and a few of his most devoted cohorts tormenting.

"You cannot undo what was done all those years ago. You may want to, but we both know you will get nowhere without me. You are still rather weak, if I may be so bold."

Voldemort lowered his hand reluctently. It would not do to make light of things prematurely.

"I managed to put an end to her weak-minded mother, though Hermione and her father ran off before I could do anything. If he hadn't been such a distraction…"

"That is of no use to me now. The Potters will go in your place from now on. His family is undoubtedly one of my most trusted."

Harry shifted and quickly glanced at Neville, but he stared straight ahead as if zoning out the entirity of the evening could place him in safe hands. He missed the intense glare from Draco.

_Something is not right about this, why would he make such a show of it now?_

Elizabeth scoffed, clearly unimpressed with the new arrangements.

"And what of the prophecy?"

"Lucius...will take great care in abtaining the prophecy."

* * *

"James, I don't think we should do this, not right away at least. What if it goes wrong?"

Harry was on his way to his room when Lily's voice, barely above a hushed whisper, caught his attention. He pressed himself against the wall, making sure to keep still and not let his shadow draw their attention. Being aware that it was wrong to eavesdrop, he had to know if they were speaking about something important. Besides, isn't that what normal children do when their parents try to keep things from them?

"We must. Now is the time to make our move, they will least expect Voldemort's most trusted to betray him. We can't sit around waiting until Harry is of age."

"Our move?"

"We're going to look for the remaining Horcroxes, all of us. I lost any contact with Mr. Granger due to his run in with Elizabeth, it's much too dangerous to send an owl anyway."

"Surely you don't mean bringing Harry?" Lily exclaimed worriedly. Isn't it enough they drag him to meetings? Now they will be putting him in even more danger by openingly showing their resistance to Voldemort? How do they know help will come in time? She felt things were happening too soon, the path they were taking was clear with no real obstacles to overcome. But that is the thing about James, who treated it as if nothing could go wrong and was very convincing that his plan will go accordingly, when all of it could crumble around them in an instant. If Voldemort thought for a second they betrayed him, he would not dither to kill them. She trusted Harry could find a life with Sirius, should anything happen to her and James, they were both two people whose lives were in an almost constant state of jeopardy, yet they needed someone to look after them more than they can ever understand. But it was the thought of leaving their son to fend for himself. What would happen should he fail?

"We need him, Lilypad. He has to know the reason we set out to do this; even if the Dark Lord chose him I doubt he's going to outright hurt Harry. Especially when he needs him."

_Choose? Why would he choose me?_

Lily dropped the dishtowel onto the counter, pressing a hand against her temple; she hated to even think of her son being used…in such a way.

"Stop. Please, I don't want to talk about this."

"Then we won't," He glanced at her, thinking that in spite of what they gone through, she didn't look half her age. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "I promise, everything will be fine."

"You can't promise that."

"No, but will it make you feel better?"

"You know it does."

James grinned and resumed his washing of the dishes, while Lily dried them, unmoved with her husbend's attempt to lighten the mood, and settlled for ruffling his hair. She loved the boyish look it gave him.

Harry left for his room. Recalling everything he was meant to do, and dreading what was to come next.

_TBC_

* * *

_**A/N: **_No excuse for how long this took to post, I simply couldn't make time for it. I tried capturing Voldmort's 'singular' way of thinking but…I might've botched it. Either way, it was fun to finally write him though. Also, I'm SERIOUSLY EXCITED for the new play of …I know it's going to be wickdly awesome. 3


	9. IX - The Rebellion

_**A/N:**_Holy cheeseballs. I didn't realize so many of you guys were reading this! This chapter follows canon a bit. Again, I apologize for the wait.

"Sirius?"

"Ah, I wondered where you'd gotten off to. Exploring?" Harry nodded, having escaped Kreacher unharmed and finding his Godfather in one of the rooms overlooking his family tree – he noticed Sirius liked to go off by himself when tensions are high. That was one of the things they have in common, though he was amazed they were able to spend time at Grimmauld over the holidays at all. "Have you tasted Molly's version of Knickerbocker Glory? We may not always see eye to eye, but I now understand why Arthur married her!"

"Yeah, I have," Harry made an effort to appear happy, but Sirius knew the boy had something on his mind – like James; Harry isn't the best at hiding his true feelings. "Ron would have loved it."

"Yes, it is a pity. Visiting relatives?"

Harry looked down at his shoes. The truth was, Ron still had a gripe about the Harry's 'involvement' with Death Eaters, but Molly and Arthur both refused to believe this since the Potters were very good friends of the Weasleys, and instead believed that they were working against Voldemort by joining his ranks. Which is true, but Ron was still having difficulty swallowing this, and as such, Harry's plan to convince him otherwise had failed.

"Harry if something is troubling you, please, don't hesitate to tell me. There's little I haven't caught wind of."

_Why does he have to know me so well?_

"What if I can't keep him out? What if he finds out where we are?"

"I'm assuming you mean Voldemort?"

"No, I'm talking about Dolby. Of course Voldemort!"

Sirius sent him a stern look, to which Harry smartly retracted under.

"I'm sorry. I just get so angry, and confused. Half the time I spend figuring out how I'm going to defend myself and my friends from him, the other half…I'm drifting through life, like it doesn't matter anymore."

Sirius seemed to be processing all of this - knowing that the disappearance of Hermione was not helping matters either. He sometimes wished James had picked Remus to be his son's Godfather. It wasn't that he loved Harry any less, but Remus seemed to adapt at times like these with relative ease, then again, while women and wizardry was his strong point, good advice and careful planning were Remus'.

"Well… the first is understandable. Anyone would feel this way, Harry, and I don't think you're a bad person. You have gone through a lot of bad experiences from an early age, and I must commend you for keeping a fairly level head about it. Second, hormones are also playing a good part in this," Harry could feel the heat rising to his face. Did they really have to discuss this? Now? His dad hadn't brought anything up about the subject lately, probably too worried about the world being destroyed. "However, I'm not going into that bit until you're ready, or unless you want to sass me again."

"I think you've been around Molly too long."

"I think we all have, when is she leaving again?" They both laughed at his remark, Sirius noted how good it felt to share a moment with someone he considered family amongst the madness. If anything should happen to him, at least he could say he knew happiness.

"You needn't worry so much Harry," Sirius continued, hoping what he was about to say would ease Harry's fears a little. "I think every person has to prove themselves once in a while, the important part is gathering the courage to say you're scared. It's _okay_ to be scared. It's also okay to fail."

"But I can't fail this, not when everything is resting on me."

"You think because my parents were aristocratic thickheads who saw me as one of their biggest failures that I didn't feel like crying over it? You think you're the only one in this against Voldemort? We have all contributed to facing him; all of us have our weakness. We simply must make sure he doesn't gather strength from our weakness. I believe that you won't let that happen. If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

Harry let the words sink in; this is what he needed to hear. That someone other than just his parents believed in him, and would be willing to guide him.

"Thanks, Sirius."

"One more thing, Harry… Why do you so readily trust Dumbledore?"

"I'm not sure. He is the first adult who showed me any real kindness I suppose."

"I don't quite follow, haven't we shown you a great deal of it already?'

_Oh, I forgot. Sirius doesn't okay know about the Dursleys!_

"Well, I just mean at school, and when it comes to Voldemort," He hoped that Sirius didn't catch him in a lie; it was bad enough no one else knew. "He understands loads of what I don't, or anyone else really, except you and the Order."

Sirius appeared to accept this, but Harry needed to ask anyway.

"If you don't mind, why do you ask?"

"Because sometimes I think he may bask in the fact that you are 'chosen' and not a human being."

"Dumbledore has his reasons for treating me as chosen, why would he think of me as otherwise?"

"I never said he didn't, but I don't think you should dismiss all of your instincts based on Dumbledore's word alone, yeah?"

"I guess you have a point." He got the impression that Sirius doubted elder wizard's abilities, but why? Wasn't the Order enough proof that Dumbledore knew what he was doing?

"Yes, and remember, keep the mirror safe?"

"I will." Sirius smiled and ruffled his hair, pleased Harry hadn't lost much of his 'bright eyed' attitude towards magic. He felt that was good, everyone deserved a nice surprise now and then.

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to tell Molly that she scared the rest of my guests away by hiding the Firewhiskey!"

Harry grinned, watching the distinguished form of the man he'd come to love like a brother jovially join the others, assuming his joke went over well when uproarious laughter filled the corridor. In spite of being confined to his house, Sirius hadn't changed when it came to lightening the mood. He was glad of this since it kept Sirius grounded.

Harry went to his room feeling only slightly better than he did when they arrived here; the talk had only helped calm his nerves to a minimum. He sat on the edge of the bed looking fondly at the enchanted two-way mirror, deemed 'probably safer, and more reliable, than an owl' by Sirius. If he'd known it would be the last time he spoke to his Godfather, he would have never left 12 Grimmauld place.

_TBC_

A/N: That's one thing I never understood about OotP. Everyone acted hell-bent on keeping the truth from Harry, even Molly got on my nerves a little – did he not face some of the worse events of his life where the penalty for screwing up by a millisecond was death? Granted he was underage, but if a bigoted, murdering, no-nosed wizard were relentlessly intent on hurting/killing and me my friends/family, then I'd want to know everything I can about that person in order to stop them.


	10. X - A Momentary Lapse of Reason

Harry felt himself being pulled vertically into what he could only describe as having tunnel-like surroundings. It was pitch black, twisting, and the air held a feint odor of mildew. He could hear the dripping of water somewhere nearby, but isn't sure if it's a good idea to stick his hand out, what will he be touching? Where was he? While he is aware that this is a dream, if his fluid like motions and disoriented images were anything to go by, he couldn't wake himself. Images of a young boy he didn't recognize flashed by, giving him no clear view of anything helpful. The voices are what troubled him; they swooped in and out of his mind like seagulls dipping their beaks underwater in search of food – penetrating the thin barrier that held his sub consciousness in place. He kept walking forward, at least that much he could comprehend, and tried hard to ignore the voices that plagued his movement every few steps, unable to recall why the tone sounded familiar. Not knowing what awaited him at the end was nerve-wracking, but what if it led to a way out of this madness?

Because there is always a light at the end, and a light means hope… doesn't it?

Doesn't it?

_Why didn't I listen? The mirror…Sirius is dead. Because of Bellatrix, because of YOU!_

_**Because you are weak, Harry.**_

_I am not weak, I have defeated you before and I will again. I have a family now and friends, friends who love me and -_

**_And what? You think those 'friends' of yours are doing anything to help you?_**

_They need me to help them out of this. As I need them._

_**THEY HOLD YOU BACK.**_

_They are my family. They would never leave me!_

_**They despise you for ruining their lives. You do not honestly think they will tell you this your face?**_

_You have never known love, or compassion, I feel sorry for you._

_**Me? I am not the reason my mother and father were killed. I am not the reason many more will meet their end in a matter of days.**_

_I didn't…they didn't die because of me…_

_**Not yet, but who is to say they won't? It is only a matter of time, Harry. Did you really think you could keep me subdued forever?**_

_You can't do this; I won't LET you do this. I'll stop you with everything I have. Even if it means dying!_

_**Oh, silly boy. I have already won…**_

"No!"

Harry sat up in his bed, sweat pouring down his face. The confusion of his dream settling as he took in his surroundings, he walked into the bathroom to get a glass of water seeing as he could hardly swallow – better than sitting there staring into a dark room.

_I'm home. I'm home and Sirius is dead. He is dead because I wasn't quick enough, because I was too weak. Why do I have a headache? Am I still dreaming? Or having another vision?_

He inhaled deeply; glancing at the boy in the mirror before him, the one he stopped identifying as the same boy five years ago when he first became a wizard, but exhaling did nothing to calm his resentment. His anger. A rush of fury coursed through his veins – jaw tense and his knuckles were white as he gripped the sink's edge tighter. For a split second his eyes appeared to merge into something hollow, a slithering tangle of darkness laying beneath the surface, then was gone. Harry splashed a handful of water onto his face, noting that the aspirin still has yet to take effect.

_I want to hit something, someone. I don't care; I want to see blood spilled. Why do I feel this way? This isn't normal, I've felt anger but this is different. It's like there is a beast inside, shifting, clawing, pulling its way out. Demanding I give in. _

_And it's enraged._

Harry thought perhaps sleep would help his restlessness, but none came and instead he lay awake for quite a while. Even going through some of his old spell books didn't seem to help, he tossed and turned and before he knew it morning had brought with it a sun merrier than most days, closely followed by the smell of freshly cooked breakfast making its way to his nose.

_Why do I have the distinct feeling that today is one I'm going to regret facing?_

The boy is mine.

Finally.

I have waited years for this - It feels like a century.

His mind was meant to break; it was only a matter of the right push. The right tug to send the fragile bridge he so carefully built that led to his mind tumbling down into the abyss, where I only had to bide my time.

He was none the wiser, it couldn't have been simpler. All those years of prodding and leading him to this exact moment required careful planning and I succeeded, he did not honestly think that little mudblood he chooses to spend most of his time around acquired the Time-Turner because of her silly studies, does he? Rather a coincidence he saw a younger version of his father, no? Hm. Perhaps he does, but then, what better way to break and mold him into what I need?

_TBC_


End file.
